The Game of Love Strike
by khylaren
Summary: Laurel Thompson had given up on men and love. Her loneliness sparks the interest of Eros, God of Love and Desire, who decides that she just needs to find the right person to love – even if that person happens to be in another world entirely.
1. Prologue

Title: The Game of Love

Author: Khylaren

Contact: 

Fandom: LOTR – AU

Rating: R

Cast: OFC, Glorfindel, Elrond, Haldir and others

Timeline: Begins roughly before the Hobbit.

Summary: Laurel Thompson had given up on men and love. Her loneliness sparks the interest of Eros, God of Love and Desire, who decides that she just needs to find the right person to love – even if that person happens to be in another world entirely.

Notes: Written for a sweetheart of a friend, mostly to indulge her whimsy and her hormones. You know who you are, dearie. Hope you like it. Yes, it's a Sue, but at least hopefully it has good dialogue and characterization!

**Prologue**

Young, free, and unfortunately single.

Those words summed up Laurel Thompson's life pretty much in a nutshell. She didn't mind the first two so terrible much, but the third was beginning to wear on her more than she wanted to admit. After her divorce from He Who Will Not Be Named three years ago, she'd found it rather difficult to slip back into the whole dating scene again. Her marriage had left a bitter taste in her mouth that no amount of Listerine would erase. Despite the urges of her hormones, she couldn't quite bring herself to admit that men were even worth it at this point.

That's what battery operated devices were for anyway.

So, with the exception of a brief fling with a bartender right after her divorce was finalized, Laurel had been celibate. Her life was much simpler that way, and quite frankly, she liked keeping her life simple.

She didn't realize that her apathy when it came to matters of the heart had garnered the interest of someone who had a vested interest in love; namely, the God Eros.

Love and desire were his specialty, and while there were numerous mortals in the world whose hearts were empty and needing, Laurel had reached a level of ennui that surpassed most. The state of her heart was like a red flag in front of an enraged bull. He could ignore it no longer.

So, using his Divine Powers, he found the one male who she would love, and who would love her equally in return. Granted, the individual in question was not from the realm of Earth, but for Eros, this was not an obstacle he could not overcome. He did, after all, have powerful friends in other realms.

It would be a simple matter to remove Laurel from Earth and deposit her in the Realm of Arda, and thereby make it possible for her to find her true love. Of course, being a God, he couldn't make it too easy for her. No, there would be the obligatory obstacles in the way of her happiness that she would have to overcome before she could find her one true love. But that was always the way these things worked.

With that, the God of Love and Desire began to plan.

Anteros could sense that his brother was up to something.

Long conferences with their mother, Aphrodite, extended visits to other realms, and a noticeable interest in the mortal realm of Earth below all pointed to one thing: Eros was planning on something big.

It took little effort to discover what Eros was up to. All in all, it was so typical of his brother that it was rather disappointing in the end. Another mortal with an empty heart – something Eros could not possibly resist.

Like Eros, Anteros' influence lay in love and desire, therefore he could not actively oppose his brother's plans. The mortal herself – Laurel, had actually fallen under Anteros' purview when her husband had betrayed her with another woman. Though the situation was hardly unique, Anteros was aware of it, and understood well Laurel's apathy with regards to finding love. He supposed he could have expended a little more effort in punishing her husband for his infidelity, but it seemed enough that the man lose the love of his wife and a goodly portion of his income besides. 

So Anteros watched, and waited, curious to see if Eros could indeed find a perfect match for Laurel, and eager to take control of things if his brother should fail.

Laurel Thompson, unaware of the machinations of the gods above, unaware of even the existence of said gods, left her apartment and walked to the parking lot below, her keys held loosely in her hand.

She waited patiently for the light to turn so she could turn left, out of the parking lot and onto the busy road. Her mind was curiously peaceful, and she found herself singing along with the radio as she waited, watching traffic go by.

The light turned green, and she began her turn.

She never saw the Mayflower moving truck that decided to risk the red light and cruise on through the intersection, thereby ending her 32 years on earth with an abrupt clash of metal and glass.


	2. Chapter 1

The Game of Love: Strike 

By Khylaren

Chapter 1 

Glorfindel guided Asfaloth into the woods that bordered the banks of the Bruinen, following the path between the trees. As was his wont, he kept a sharp eye for anything out of the ordinary, even as he simply enjoyed a lazy afternoon's ride. Even on his day off, he was ever mindful of his duty to keep the borders of his lord's land safe from harm.

He passed deeper into the forest, Asfaloth carefully picking his way over fallen branches and around smaller trees, and Glorfindel looked around him with pleasure. The riotous colors of the leaves brightened the floor of the woods, and he admired the contrasts of reds, oranges and yellows against the occasional brown of earth. His gaze turned ahead, and his keen eyes caught a glimpse of a color unexpected; a flash of green amongst the colors of autumn.

At first he thought it was merely a patch of grass showing through the carpet of fallen leaves, but as he drew closer, he realized by its shape it could not be. By now he could tell it was a woman – either dead or sleeping, on the floor beneath the trees. Her back was to him, and he could see little of her features beyond the length of reddish brown hair that fell across her shoulders and mingled with the leaves.

He drew Asfaloth to a halt and slid from the stallion's back, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Carefully he approached, all his reflexes on alert should it prove a ruse. He could see the steady rise and fall of her breathing, but nothing in her posture indicated she was aware of his approach. Slowly, silently, he circled around her until he could see her face.

Glorfindel froze in his tracks and stared in surprise and no small amount of confusion. It was strange enough to find a woman alone in the woods of Imladris – but to find an elleth, unconscious by all appearances, and unfamiliar to him besides, both startled and concerned him.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his brow furrowing slightly. He could see no injury that would cause her current state – no sign of trauma, or evidence of attack.

Releasing his grip on his sword, he knelt beside her prone form and reached out to touch her. That was when her eyes flew open, stared at him a moment without any sign of comprehension, and her mouth opened to scream.

Laurel's consciousness returned slowly, and with it, was the strong sense of being watched. Her eyes fluttered open and focused gradually on a face that was mere inches from hers.

She drew a breath to scream, scrambling back from him in an ungainly flail of arms and legs, but no sound came from her throat. She managed to rise to her feet, her heart hammering in her chest as she struggled to make her mind work. He made no move towards her, and despite the sword he wore on his hip, his manner was not overtly threatening, merely watchful.

His face was as beautiful as an angel's, but there was something wild about his features – his blue eyes were a bit too large, his brows a little too arched, and his ears a little too pointed. She'd never heard of angels having pointed ears. If he was a Seraph, then he had to be one of the four guardians – which would explain the presence of the sword.

Laurel managed to find her voice, though it was faint. "Which one are you?"

His eyes clouded momentarily in confusion, before he rose to his feet. "I beg your pardon, lady," he said, uncertain what she meant by her question. "Are you well?" Perhaps she had suffered a head injury that was not readily apparent.

It seemed a silly question to ask, by Laurel's reasoning. She was in heaven. Of course she was well, why wouldn't she be?  Unless, of course, this wasn't heaven, and the beautiful creature in front of her wasn't one of the four archangels.

The memory of darkness, and the oft spoke of light which she followed, until she came to a place she couldn't begin to describe. No explanations at the end. No answers. No one at all. In the end, feeling weary, drained, and confused. The light fading until all was darkness once more.

"I'm fine," she answered finally. "This is going to sound odd…but where am I?"

The creature before her studied her carefully, as if wondering if she were dissembling, before answering. "You are on the boundaries of Imladris, lady."

Glorfindel had questions, so many questions that needed answering, but from the look of utter confusion on her face, he thought perhaps some of them should wait.

Introductions were in order, he thought, and bowed politely. "I am Lord Glorfindel of Imladris, Seneschal to Lord Elrond Peredhil."

Laurel barely heard his introduction, for in the moment between him telling her where she was and who he was, she had noticed something that had left her feeling more than odd.

Her jeans and sweater were gone. Instead, she was wearing a dress, bottle green, made of some type of velvet that was softer than any velvet she'd ever felt before. Her tennis shoes had been replaced by soft, leather boots that laced up past her ankles. She stared at her feet for the longest moment, until Glorfindel's voice brought her out of her daze.

She looked at him and swallowed. "I'm sorry, sir. What did you ask?"

Glorfindel noticed her face becoming a rather alarming shade of pale. "I asked your name, lady, and where you were from." He was becoming a bit concerned by her behavior, and wondered again if she had suffered a head injury, despite her answer that she was well.

"My name is Laurel Thompson," she answered. "I'm from Whidbey Island."

His eyebrows rose slightly at this information, for not only was Laurel not an elvish name, he had never heard of an island named Whidbey. Therefore, she must be lying, though why, he could not quite fathom. If she were some type of spy, surely she would be better at spinning a believable tale.

Laurel swayed on her feet. "Sir, I'm going to be blunt, because I'm confused, and I don't know what the hell is going on."

Glorfindel nodded for her to continue, his hand easing gradually toward the hilt of his sword.

She shook her head. "I was driving to work, and my car was hit by a moving van. I _remember that_! Did I die? Is this heaven?" She shook her head again, feeling her legs wobble slightly. "If this is heaven, the Christians have got it all wrong."  Her eyes widened slightly and she stared at him. "Or maybe, I'm in a coma!" She warmed to the thought – it certainly made more sense than anything else. "This is a dream!"

He struggled not to let his utter confusion at her unfamiliar words show. This elleth spoke strangely for certain. However, strange or not, he could not leave her here. She was obviously confused, and more of a danger to herself in the wild than to anyone else. She had no weapons or pack that he could see, no implements that would allow her to survive on her own. In fact, the more he studied her, he came to the conclusion that she spent very little time living out of doors. Her dress looked finely made – like a lady's dress, and though her speech was a little rougher than he expected a well born lady's to be, she had a soft look about her that spoke of an easy life.

"I believe," he replied, thinking quickly, "that you had best come with me to see Lord Elrond. He is a healer. He may be able to help you."

Laurel nodded. If this was a dream, it didn't matter where she went. Sooner or later, hopefully, she'd wake.

For a dream, this all felt quite convincingly real.

Glorfindel's horse carried them both easily, with Laurel sitting in front of Glorfindel, his arm around her waist to hold her securely and keep her from falling. When she'd explained that she'd never been on a horse before, his eyes had widened slightly in surprise, but his reply was a mildly voiced, "I shall endeavor to keep you from falling, then."

He was strong, lifting her easily onto his horse's back, and the horse, to his credit, held perfectly still during the process, and didn't seem to object when she clutched a death hold on his mane.

The warmth of the horse's hide beneath her felt real. The strands of silky mane between her fingers felt real. The press of Glorfindel's lean body behind her definitely felt real – perhaps more real than she would have liked; quite frankly it had been ages since she'd been close to another man. Having a man riding right behind her, with his thighs pressing against her backside, rocking with the motion of the horse's gait, was a bit disconcerting, as well as pleasantly distracting.

Of course, it didn't help that, human or not, Glorfindel was possibly the most beautiful male anything she'd ever seen.

Which brought up another rather important question. She knew Glorfindel couldn't be human – humans didn't have pointed ears, for starters, but even if his ears had been rounded, something about him – his very presence, screamed non-human.

"What are you?" she asked finally, curiosity finally getting the better of her.

"Pardon, lady?" Glorfindel's voice tickled her ear pleasantly. "What do you mean?" Her question was odd, he thought. "I am Lord Elrond's Seneschal. I keep watch over his borders. I am his guardian."

Laurel shook her head, turning her head to look at him. "No, I mean what **_are_** you? Not what you do for a living."

He was taken aback, honestly bewildered as to why she would be asking this. He hoped Lord Elrond would be able to discover what was wrong with her. "I am an elf, lady, the same as you."

Her dark eyes widened a moment and she actually snorted, a rather indelicate, unladylike sound. "An elf? You don't happen to make shoes or toys when you're not out riding in the woods, do you?"  Her smile faded and she frowned. "What do you mean, same as me? I'm not an elf."

Glorfindel regarded her patiently, inwardly shaking his head. The poor elleth. It was becoming readily apparent that something terrible must have happened for her wits to be so scattered.

He drew Asfaloth to a halt and took one of her hands in his, bringing it to her own, delicately pointed ear. Her look of shock would have been almost comical, if the situation had been less serious.

Laurel reached up with both hands, feeling her ears with disbelief. They were hers, and not some rubber appliance, that was fairly obvious the moment she pinched the tip of one of them and gasped at the resulting stinging pain. Glorfindel winced in sympathy.

Not quite ready to accept what her fingers were telling her, she reached up and touched one of Glorfindel's ears gently with the tip of her finger to see if they felt any different than hers. She was not prepared for the intensity of his reaction.

The moment her fingertip brushed the tip of his ear, he grabbed her wrist, pulling it away with a sharp gasp.

"Do not, lady," he managed, his voice sounding strangely tight. "Please. You should not ever touch another elf's ears unless…" he trailed off, and she was surprised to see him look rather embarrassed. He released his grip on her wrist abruptly.

"Unless what?" she pressed, honestly curious.

Glorfindel shook his head, his control in place once more. He cleared his throat and shook his head. "It is a very personal thing to touch another elf's ears," he said meaningfully. "You should not do it without being invited first."

"Oh." Laurel looked blankly at him for a moment, then comprehension dawned on her fair features. "Oh!" she exclaimed, blushing a rather becoming shade of pink.

She was mortified and was grateful when Glorfindel urged his horse forward again. Thankfully, nothing more was said on _that _subject. However, Glorfindel's revelation about what he was and what she was prompted her to ask, "How do you know I'm an elf? It's not just the ears, is it?"

To her surprise, he chuckled, and she got goose bumps from the way his warm breath ghosted over the back of her neck.

"No, lady. It is not simply the ears. I can sense your fëa."

"My what?" She turned towards him again. "What is that?'

Glorfindel sighed. She was as full of questions as an elfling and looked to be every bit as persistent. "I think Lord Elrond can answer that better than I," he hedged, not wishing try to explain the nature of elven fëa to someone who had apparently forgotten everything, including her own race.

"Oh, wait," she said softly, wonderment coloring her voice. "I think I know." It was that thing, that feeling, or sense she got about him that told her he wasn't human even before she saw the pointed ears. "Is it like your spirit?"

"Close enough," Glorfindel told her, and squeezed Asfaloth into a canter, hoping to avoid more questions.

Laurel gasped, clinging tighter to the horse's mane, grateful that Glorfindel seemed to have a good grip on her. The ground beneath them seemed to blur and she was forced to keep her gaze focused ahead to keep from getting dizzy.

Asfaloth kept his steady, ground eating pace until they reached the gates of Imladris, where Glorfindel finally brought him to a walk once more.

Laurel forgot the myriad of questions she'd thought of during the ride in her awe of the place before her. She wasn't sure what she'd really been expecting Imladris to look like, but the place itself defied and exceeded all of her expectations.

Imladris was, in a word, beautiful.

Graceful arches, great, open buildings, trees of every size, shape and color; these were but the initial impressions she gathered as they passed through the gates. On closer inspection she saw leaf-strewn roads, delicate and lovely statues and carvings along the way, fountains, flowers and growing things everywhere. The buildings themselves were majestic creations of an architecture she'd never seen before. They seemed extensions of the trees growing around them, as if they'd grown from the ground themselves, instead of being built. They were open and airy, all curves and arches of white stone and wood, glittering glass panes that rippled like a stream of water in the sunlight.

And the people who lived there simply made her stare.

Beings, every bit as graceful and lovely as their surroundings, seeming to be a part of the natural world around them.  Flashes of pale, golden hair, silver hair, or dark sable, gleaming fabric, shimmering pale skin, unearthly in their beauty.

They _were_ unearthly, Laurel realized, feeling rather foolish. They weren't human.

Which brought home the realization that neither was she, and she wondered, with no small amount of vanity, if _she_ looked like these creatures, straight out of some fairy tale. Unless there was a complete dearth of reflective surfaces in Imladris, she supposed she'd find out sooner or later.

Glorfindel brought his horse to a halt and slid from Asfaloth's back, reaching up to lift Laurel to the ground. His hands caught her waist and lifted her, and her hands clutched his shoulders as he swung her down. He set her gently on the ground and released her, only to catch her again as she nearly fell.

"Sorry," she muttered, clutching at his tunic as she got her legs under her again. "My legs feel like rubber."

He cocked an eyebrow at her, shaking his head again at her strange words. He understood her meaning, however. "You should be all right in a moment, though you may be a bit stiff tomorrow."  She smiled up at him hesitantly, and he was suddenly aware that his hands were still resting on her narrow waist and that barely a hands breadth was between them.

"Picking up strays, Glorfindel?" an amused voice asked, bringing him back to his surroundings abruptly. He released his grip on Laurel's waist and transferred his hold to her arm, lending her some support as he turned to greet the speaker.

"Good afternoon, Erestor," he said with a grin. "I doubt the lady considers herself a stray."

The dark haired elf raised an eyebrow and looked curiously at his companion. "Indeed," he replied mildly.

"Laurel Thompson, this is Lord Erestor, Chief Counselor and Advisor to Lord Elrond, and my good friend," Glorfindel introduced her.

Laurel smiled at Erestor, so different in looks from Glorfindel, but every bit as beautiful. His eyes were large and such a dark brown they appeared almost black, and his hair was a rich, glossy black. He nodded a greeting to her, obviously curious, but far too polite to pepper her with questions.

"I am taking her to see Lord Elrond," Glorfindel explained quietly. "I think perhaps she has sustained an injury."

Erestor saw the elleth give Glorfindel a look of surprise. "I'm not hurt," she protested. "Just seriously confused."

Glorfindel patted her arm gently and gave her a nod. "All right, lady," he agreed, not wishing to upset her. "Lord Elrond perhaps can clear up your confusion then."

She sniffed, only partially mollified by his obvious capitulation. "All right."

Erestor hid his smile. "I look forward to talking with you later, Glorfindel," he said. He inclined his head politely at Laurel. "It was a pleasure to meet you."

Laurel followed Glorfindel through the halls of the Last Homely House. It seemed a rather odd name for a building as beautiful as it was, but perhaps homely wasn't meant in the way it usually was meant. Perhaps it meant home-like, instead of unpleasant and ugly.

He left her waiting in a large yet comfortable room filled with overstuffed chairs and long, lovely couches, literally surrounded by grand fireplaces. There were tapestries and paintings on the walls, depicting scenes that varied greatly. She liked the portraits better than the battle scenes, and spent several moments going from one to the next, studying faces, wondering who the elves pictured in them were.

One portrait in particular caught her eye. It was a painting of a lovely elf lady with beautiful blonde hair and deep, almost ocean blue eyes. It was the expression that the artist had captured, though, that caught Laurel's attention the most. The lady was smiling, positively glowing with happiness. She had the look of someone deeply in love.

"That is the Lady Celebrían," a low, masculine voice said at her ear, startling her greatly.

Laurel turned, surprised that it wasn't Glorfindel who had crept up on her. The tall, dark haired elf was still looking at the portrait, a small, wistful smile playing about his lips.

"She looks happy," she ventured finally, uncertain what to say.

The elf turned and looked at her, favoring her with a slightly warmer smile. "She was. That was the day we announced our intention to bond."  He seemed to remember himself then, and inclined his head in a regal fashion. "I am Lord Elrond, and you must be the lady Glorfindel spoke with me about."

"Laurel Thompson," she replied, uncertain if she should offer her hand or curtsey. She settled on doing neither. Instead, she simply said, "I'm very pleased to meet you."

Elrond studied her for a moment, curiosity alight in his gray eyes. "Glorfindel is worried that you may have suffered some type of head injury.  He was quite concerned about your confusion. If you will permit me, I would like to examine you."

"I haven't suffered any injury that I know of," Laurel replied, shaking her head. "But sure. Hopefully you can explain a few things while I'm here."

He nodded and gestured gracefully for her to follow him.

Eros smiled to himself, feeling quite satisfied that things seemed to be progressing the way he had intended. All the pieces, though, were not quite in place. There was one left that had yet to be put into play.

However, Eros had no intention of rushing the game, and was he was honestly curious to see exactly how it would unfold without his deliberate direction. It was rare when a mortal could surprise him, but it _did _happen on occasion. He wondered then if, left to her own devices, Laurel would stumble across her true love all on her own.

He decided to wait and see.

After all, he had all the time in the universe, and now, thanks to him, so did she.


	3. Chapter 2

The Game of Love: Strike 

By Khylaren

Chapter 2 

"So, Glorfindel tells me I'm an elf," Laurel said to cover her nervousness as Elrond's hands gently probed her head and neck for injury.

Elrond's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Yes, that is correct. Does that surprise you?"  His long fingers gently palpated the muscles of her shoulders, searching for any sign of pain or discomfort.

"Well, frankly, yes," Laurel replied, feeling very self-conscious now of how close his face was to hers as he swept his fingertips over her temples and across her forehead. "I'm human."

The elf lord's fingers stilled their movements and he looked at her sharply. "I assure you, lady, you are most definitely an elf."

"I didn't used to be," Laurel said. "I didn't even know there were such things as elves until I woke up with Glorfindel inches from my nose. Elves were always fantasy creatures, make believe, fairy tales."

Elrond helped her to sit up and frowned. "I can sense no injury to your head or neck area that would explain this lapse in your memory, nor why you would believe such things," he said finally. He took a seat across from her on a nearby chair and looked at her keenly. "I want to you tell me everything you remember of this day, from the moment you woke up this morning, to the point where Glorfindel found you. Can you do that?"

So she did, omitting no detail. She could tell he didn't understand some of what she said, but was following her story nonetheless as best he could. She got to the part where she figured she was dead, and followed the bright light out of the tunnel, and he started abruptly.

"You think that you died?" Elrond questioned, his eyebrows rising sharply. "Why do you think that?"

"Because of the light, and because I don't see how I could have survived a crash like that. And because none of this makes any sense to me at all," Laurel explained matter-of-factly. "I'm either dead and this is heaven, which seems all wrong if that's the case, no offense to your hospitality. Or, I'm in a coma, and I'm dreaming all of this."

Elrond regarded her a moment and shook his head. "You are not dreaming, Laurel," he said quietly. "I assure you, this is all very real."

"Well of course you'd say that," she replied with a short laugh. "You're supposed to say that."

He looked disconcerted at her flippant answer. He thought for several long moments, before he spoke. "I would like to try something, with your permission, that may help to answer both my questions and yours."

Laurel shrugged. "What do you want me to do?"

Elrond smiled faintly. "Lie down on the bed and close your eyes. I am going to put you into a deep, healing sleep. You will feel much refreshed when you awaken."

"And what are you going to be doing while I'm sleeping?" Laurel asked curiously. "How is that going to help give you the answers you're looking for?"

"I will be able to touch your thoughts and memories while you are asleep. It is a gift I have fortunately been blessed with. I can do it while you are awake, however it is a task made simpler if the subject is asleep," he explained simply. "Will you grant me permission to do this?"

Laurel considered his question carefully. There were a lot of thoughts and memories she wasn't really sure she wanted to share with a complete stranger. On the other hand, she truly wanted to know what was going on. If this was just a dream, well, then, it didn't matter what he found out from picking through her thoughts. If it was real, then he might be able to tell her just what exactly happened, and possibly how she got there.

She looked at him, studying his face for a moment. Though she had just met him only moments ago, something within her instinctively trusted him. Perhaps it was the gentle patience and curiosity she read in his silvery gray eyes, or perhaps it was the way that Glorfindel had deferred to him. Perhaps it was simply that if he was the Lord of such a place as breathtakingly lovely and peaceful as Imladris, how could he be anything but good?

"You won't…tell anyone if you see something…well, embarrassing, will you?" she asked finally.

A soft chuckle escaped him and he smiled. "No, Laurel. I will share no details of anything I discover without your permission. I shall be the soul of discretion, you have my word."

Laurel nodded and lay back on the bed, closing her eyes. "Because I'm trusting you, you know. There's a lot of stuff in there I'd rather not share with the world in general."

Another soft chuckle greeted this sally. "We all carry such memories, Laurel." His hands touched her forehead gently, and she felt a comforting warmth emanating from them. "Now sleep."

Elrond studied the elleth sleeping peacefully on the bed before him, his brow furrowed in thought. After speaking with her at length, hearing her strange story, as well as her equally strange words and mannerisms, he understood Glorfindel's concern.

Elf maiden she might be, but there was something inherently wrong with Laurel.  Even her name was not an Elvish one, though he could not recall having ever heard it among the humans he was acquainted with.

She claimed she was human, which Elrond found equally perplexing. There was nothing human about the female before him. From the glow to her skin, to the tips of her pointed ears, she was an elf in all appearances. Like Glorfindel, Elrond could also sense her fëa quite easily, which proved to him beyond a doubt what his other senses were telling him. Laurel was indeed an elf.

However, she was the strangest, most curious elf he had ever met in his long years, and he wondered again what sort of tragedy had befallen her to make her behave in such a manner.

Elrond placed his hands on the crown of her head and closed his eyes, taking a deep, cleansing breath to focus his thoughts and will upon the mind of the sleeping elleth.

Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, knew well what her oldest son was up to, and did not necessarily approve.

While it was one thing to meddle in the love lives of mortals – something she herself did frequently, after all, it was her purview – it was quite another to take a mortal out of the realm they were born in and put her in another, without bothering to prepare her for the obstacles ahead.

Eros had made a serious error in judgment when he sent Laurel into Arda without bothering to alter anything except her physical state. While the mortal turned immortal may come to accept that she was no longer human, her new kindred would have a difficult time of it, despite their familiarity with the supernatural.

She was aware of Elrond's thoughts and intents as he opened his thoughts to Laurel, his mind beginning its gradual descent to touch Laurel's thoughts and memories. She was also aware that what the elf lord would find there would utterly confuse him and would not help matters in the least.

Aphrodite was tempted greatly to let matters lie as they were. To watch the scene unfold like a play, to see if Elrond could cope with the strangeness he found in Laurel's mind, and to see if Laurel herself was strong enough to make a life for herself in spite of her differences from those around her.

On the other hand, love _was_ her business, and Laurel would never find it if she couldn't fit in with the elves.

Perhaps then, the best answer would be to make sure that Elrond found the answers he sought, and leave the rest of it up to Laurel. After all, it wouldn't be nearly as fun to watch if she made it too easy.

It took only a moment to ensure the information Elrond required was in place, however in the brief period she had touched the powerful elf lord's mind, she had discovered something about him that saddened her.

Elrond was lonely, almost painfully so, though he bore it with the typical stoic strength of his kind; his strength coming from the knowledge that he would, one day, be reunited with the one he loved more than life.

Still, Aphrodite could not remain unaffected by the loneliness that emanated from him, though she could do nothing to ease it. While it lay well within her power to do so, she could not interfere with Elrond's life in such an obvious manner – the Valar, the gods of this realm, would never permit her meddling in his affairs.

Elrond sat back, his hands resting loosely on his thighs and closed his eyes wearily. He had found the answers he sought, but the effort had cost him more than he would have guessed. His head ached and his thoughts…well his thoughts were spinning almost out of control.

It took him several long moments to gather his unruly thoughts together and place them in some semblance of order. He had his explanation for Laurel's strange behavior, but it did not mean he was pleased.

On the contrary, he was very displeased on Laurel's behalf.

God or not, the being had no right to interfere the way he had, taking Laurel from her world and dropping her into this one. From the brief bits of memory and thoughts he had uncovered, he understood perhaps _why_ he done it, but not why he had changed her race. She would have had a better chance at acclimating herself to a new world if she had remained human, although he admitted that it would still have been very difficult. He had seen how vastly different her world was from his.

Still, she was here, and she was no longer human.  The Valar must have had something in mind when they placed her in Glorfindel's path, for he was certain it _was_ the Valar, and not this unfamiliar God, that had done at least that much. 

It was now up to Elrond to see that Laurel acclimated herself as best she could. He sighed tiredly, covering his face with his hands. It would take a lot of work on both their parts, and Elrond wondered if she was truly up for the task ahead of her. The only blessing he could see was that now that she was an elf, she at least had plenty of time in which to learn all that she would need to know to survive as a member of that race.

The other elves of his community would be wary of her at first, but he knew, in time, they would come to accept her. She was fortunate in that she came here, to Imladris, instead of to Mirkwood or Lothlórien. The elves of both those realms were much less open to outsiders. She would have found it difficult to be accepted there.

A low sigh escaped the object of his thoughts, and Elrond turned his gaze to Laurel as her eyes fluttered open. Idly he wondered if she would continue the practice of sleeping with her eyes closed, or if she would, in elven fashion, take her rest with them open.

"You have some powerful friends," Elrond said as her eyes gradually focused on him. He saw her try to sit up, and moved to assist her.  "How do you feel?"

Laurel closed her eyes a moment, before opening them once more and giving him a half-hearted smile. "Like someone has been poking around in my head," she replied with a wince.

Elrond nodded, handing her a cup filled with an herbal broth that would soothe her headache. "Drink that," he told her gently. "It will help with the discomfort somewhat."

She took it and sniffed suspiciously at the contents, before taking a hesitant sip. Elrond would have been offended by her actions, if he did not understand well the reason for her mistrust. Her look of surprise and pleasure at the taste made him smile.

"This is good," she murmured, taking another, deeper drink from the broth. "Very good."

"I am glad to hear that," Elrond replied, feeling somewhat pleased with her response. "I try very hard to make my healing brews palatable."

Laurel finished the contents of the cup and handed it back to him with a polite thank you. "What did you mean, I have some powerful friends?" she asked. "What did you find out?"

Elrond set the cup carefully on the small table beside him and folded his hands in front of him, his brow furrowing slightly. "This will take some acceptance on your part, Laurel, and some trust." He looked keenly at her as he spoke, watching the play of emotion across her face. He saw uncertainty war with curiosity, and no small amount of worry flicker across her face. "Will you trust me to tell you the truth?"

"I let you wander around my head, didn't I?" she answered back, forcing a light laugh.

A faint smile curved his lips. "So you did," he agreed. "And that does indeed require some level of trust. Very well." He leaned forward slightly, his hands coming to rest on his knees. "I will tell you what I discovered."

Laurel couldn't even begin to find words to describe what she was feeling. She stared blankly at Lord Elrond for a moment before dropping her gaze to her hands.

"This isn't a dream," she ventured finally.

"No, lady," he answered kindly enough. "I am afraid it is all quite real."

"I am really an elf."

"Yes."

"I'm immortal, trapped for eternity in a pre-industrialized civilization, because some God-like entity decided that my life on Earth was less than satisfactory," she continued, her voice dropping lower.

Elrond nodded sympathetically, understanding that this was difficult for her to accept. He himself had difficulty accepting it, so he did not begrudge her the moments it took for her to come to terms with it.

"I – I…" Laurel lifted her head and looked at him in dismay, her hands fluttering inarticulately around her.

"It is a bit much to take, is it not?" Elrond finally ventured. "I myself was rather overwhelmed at first." It was a vast understatement, but he did believe telling her how he truly felt would be helpful in her current situation. "It will, of course, take some getting used to I think. However I promise I will assist you as much as I am able."

Laurel shook her head, feeling tears sting her eyes. "I can't do this," she said, clutching the fabric of her dress between her fingers. "I don't know anything about being an elf." There was more to it than that, but she couldn't even begin to articulate it all.

"You can learn," Elrond said gently. "Can you not? The question is, Laurel, are you willing to learn?" he asked, knowing it was best to give her something to focus on, before she fell apart. He felt a surge of sympathy towards her, and an equally powerful feeling of anger at the being who was responsible for the mess she was currently in – a mess that _he_ was not even certain he could repair.

Laurel sniffed, looking down at her hands again. "I suppose," she answered finally. "I guess I don't have much choice, now do I?" To her surprise, she felt one of his hands touch hers, enfolding it in his much larger one. She lifted her head, blinking through her tears.

"You always have a choice, Laurel," he told her quietly. "You can chose to accept the fate that you have been given, or you can chose not to. It is really that simple."

Laurel wiped her tears from her cheeks with the back of her other hand and nodded.

"Then I suppose I will choose to accept it."  She was warmed suddenly by the smile of approval he gave her.

"I am glad to hear that," Elrond said, squeezing her hand briefly before releasing it. "I am very glad indeed."

Elrond showed Laurel a room that would be hers while she was a guest in his home.

"It is yours for as long as you need it," he told her, watching her awed reaction with a pleased smile. "I will have to see if we can procure some dresses for you as well," he continued.

Laurel turned to him, her eyes bright as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. "I can't repay you for any of this," she said. "You're being so good to me, and you don't even know me."

"I do not expect payment from you," he replied gently. "You are like a child in this world, how could I do ought but help you?"  He shook his head, watching as she rubbed her eyes with her fingers. "I imagine a day will come when you will be able to repay me in kind, if that helps make you feel any better."

"Thank you," Laurel managed weakly, feeling simply overwhelmed by it all.

Elrond took her arm and led her to the large, quilt covered bed, pushing her gently down onto it. "Now I think you should rest, for you have been through quite a bit in the past few hours. I shall send a maid with some food and a sleeping garment for you, and I expect you to eat and get some sleep. I will see you in the morning, all right?"

She nodded, feeling weary despite her earlier nap. "All right."  She watched him leave, closing the heavy wooden door behind him, and then curled up beneath the quilts, hugging the pillow to her chest.

Laurel woke sometime later, not even realizing she had fallen asleep, but knowing she must have, for the sky outside her window had darkened to evening, and a tray of food rested on the table beside her bed.

She sat up, stretching, feeling somewhat refreshed, and examined the food before her. A plate of fruit, small slices of some type of cheese, and a glass of what appeared to be red wine were placed on a delicately patterned tray. She took a tentative sip of the wine and found it to be very pleasant indeed. The fruit was similar in appearance to an apple, and when she tasted it, its flavor was reminiscent of one as well, though it was far juicier and flavorful than any apple she'd ever tasted before. The cheese was sharp, and went well with the crisp, sweet fruit, and before she knew it, the tray was empty except for the wine.

Taking the glass in her hand, she rose from the bed and walked towards the window, but paused as she caught her reflection in the floor length mirror beside an enormous wooden wardrobe. She stared at her reflection and a stranger with her eyes stared back.

It was a bit surreal. Her eyes were the same as they always were, but everything else about her had changed. Instead of a short, freckled human, a tall, willowy-limbed elf woman stared back.

_Why had this happened to her?_ She didn't believe in supernatural entities, gods, goddess or magic. Yet somehow, someone had engineered this drastic change in her life, simply because she'd been lonely. It seemed more than absurd when she considered it. It was ridiculous.

Yet if she believed Lord Elrond that she wasn't in fact having a rather strange if somewhat pleasant coma-induced dream, that this was in fact wholly real, she didn't quite know what she thought about it. It went beyond anything she could grasp and relate to. It was like being abducted by aliens for weird experimentation and dumped on their planet for the rest of her life. It was so unreal and completely impossible to accept.

However, the proof was right before her eyes, if she wanted it. The air she breathed, the food she tasted, the warmth of the wine in her stomach, even the pain she'd felt when she'd pinched her ear – all pointed to the fact that she was _really here_. That it wasn't a dream, coma-induced or otherwise.

Suddenly, she wished she had more wine. A lot more.


	4. Chapter 3

The Game of Love: Strike

By Khylaren

**Chapter 3**

Time, for an immortal, passes much differently than it does for a mortal. That goes without saying. However, for an immortal, who was once mortal, time passes in an altogether different fashion – a combination of moments that seem to last an eternity, and years that pass within minutes.

The passage of time was something that Laurel refused to consider at first, concentrating instead on learning everything there was to learn about elvenkind. She didn't want to think about how long she'd been gone from her world, though it was difficult not to. She missed her family and friends terribly, and she tried very hard not dwell on them. There was some comfort, albeit very slight, in knowing that because of her death in her world, her family at least had some type of closure. It was more than she'd been given.

As the months passed, she found herself making an effort to use fewer words and phrases of her old vernacular, though some continued to crop of from time to time, earning her puzzled and bemused looks from her fellow elves. Lord Elrond's acceptance of her did much to pave the way in earning their trust, as did the story he cleverly concocted to explain her sudden presence there. He had woven a tale with pieces of the truth; Glorfindel had found Laurel on the edge of the Bruinen, alone, and without any memory to explain how she came there or of her life before. She had suffered an injury so great, she must be re-taught like an elfling, until her memory returned. Of her unusual name, Elrond simply said that it was the only name Laurel could recall. And because Elrond accepted it, the others did as well. Only he, Glorfindel, and Erestor knew the real truth behind her appearance.

Between Elrond and Erestor, her education in the history of elves both past and present was almost overwhelming, but as all Erestor was wont to tell her, it was not like she didn't have the time to learn it all.

Along with the history of the elves, she learned the history of the land – Arda, as it was called. She knew the names of the Valar and their respective powers. She read about the disgrace and betrayal of the Noldor, of the forging of the Silmarils. She learned the names of the Númenorean Kings and the names of the three rings, the history of the dwarves and the slow but inevitable downfall of men after the Last Alliance. She learned about halflings, called Hobbits, and how they shared the love of green and growing things with elvenkind. She learned about the other elven realms, Lothlórien and Greenwood the Great, now called Mirkwood, and wished somehow she could have seen the great elven cities of old.

The greatest advantage of having so much information to learn was that it helped her to cope with her feelings about her situation. For the first several weeks, each day was a struggle just to get out of bed. Keeping busy helped to stave off some of the homesickness she felt, as well as gradually ease the ache in her heart whenever she thought of her family and friends she'd left behind. That was not to say she still didn't have days where she didn't even want to leave her room, but as time passed the hollow feeling inside of her began to be filled.

Lord Elrond had given her a week to adjust before he gradually began to introduce her to the other elves shared the house. He did it as she learned he did all things, carefully, wisely, and with great forethought. She had already met Glorfindel and Erestor, and during the first week both elves made an effort to speak to her at least once a day. At the time, she'd been too miserable to really appreciate their kindness and concern. Looking back on it in retrospect she realized how fortunate she was to have their regard at all.

It was Arwen she was introduced to first. The gentle daughter of Elrond, Arwen was to Laurel the very personification of the highest quality of elves: beautiful, graceful, kind, generous, quick to laugh and share in joy and merriment. Laurel found it very easy to like her. Of course, she learned, one could not spend any amount of time in Elrond or Arwen's company without eventually meeting Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond.

It was hard to even think straight when those two were in the same room. The moment they discovered they could make her flustered with their teasing, they delighted in finding ways of making her blush, until either Arwen or their father came to her rescue. The only time they did not tease her was when she was in the company of Lord Glorfindel. She was a little chagrined to discover that they teased every unattached elleth in such a manner, and gradually learned not to take them with any seriousness.

The otherworldly and wild beauty of the elves was something that took her a while to get accustomed to. It wasn't just Glorfindel's golden splendor, Arwen's ethereal loveliness, Erestor's simmering good looks, or Elrond's noble features; _all _the elves were that way, each different from the last, each with their own type of beauty. She found herself breathless and awed, time and time again as she was slowly introduced to each member of Elrond's household: Lindir in particular was bewitching with his summer blue eyes and silver hair. If she'd been human still, Laurel thought she would have simply collapsed in a gooey puddle of overloaded hormones. It took her several weeks to get past her initial, weak-kneed reactions, but even now, all it took was a flirtatious look from either the twins or Lindir to make her embarrassingly tongue-tied.

Time passed both swiftly and with agonizing slowness as Laurel began to adjust to her new life. It was still difficult to imagine that she would grow no older physically, she'd never get gray hair or wrinkles, and, barring a fatal accident of some type, she would never die. Gradually she began to accept that _this_ was who she was now. There was no going back. Her old life was gone for good.

It was going well, and Eros was pleased.

As he had hoped, Laurel was adapting to her new life, albeit gradually, and beginning to fit in with her new kindred. He was aware of his mother's interference on Laurel's behalf, but not bothered by it, for it had worked out for the best.

He considered carefully the next step in bringing Laurel and her true love together, toying with the idea of bringing them into contact with each other briefly, and then separating them for an age or so. Just to see what would happen, of course.

It was during all this that it was brought rather abruptly to his attention that something very important had slipped his notice.

When Laurel became an elf, she apparently no longer became his to deal with. As a resident of Arda, she fell directly under the purview of the Valar.

And the Valar, quite frankly, were not at all pleased.

This became readily apparent to Eros when Varda appeared before him, resplendent in robes of white and gold, a frown darker than Zeus' thunderclouds on her lovely face.

"Eros." There was a weight of disapproval in her voice.

"Varda," he returned, wondering why the wife of Manwë had called upon him. The Valar rarely left their home to visit other realms. "What brings you here?"

"You are meddling in the affairs of beings that are not your concern. When you brought this mortal to Arda and changed her nature, was it not explained to you that she would no longer be yours to interfere with?" Varda's melodious voice was utterly mild, and did not match the dark expression she wore.

It was his turn to frown. "No. It was not."

"She belongs to the Valar now," Varda explained patiently, as one would explain to a child. "You can no longer influence her fate."

Eros stiffened, not liking her tone. "She wouldn't belong to the Valar if I hadn't brought her to Arda," he reminded her sharply. "I didn't bring her to your realm just to leave her to her own devices."

Varda's expression lightened somewhat. "Yes, I am aware why this child was taken from your world and placed in ours, and I honor your intentions, truly. I know of the one she is destined for, and if ever an elf deserved happiness, it is he. It is why we allowed the transfer to take place. It is also why Manwë did not interfere when Aphrodite assisted Lord Elrond."

"However," Eros said, scowling, "You are telling me that _I_ can no longer do my duty by her? I must stand by and wait to see it unfold without helping her?"

"Yes," Varda replied gently. "That is what I am telling you."

"You cannot forbid me this," Eros argued, shaking his head. "She would not be here if it were not for my interference. How can you deny me this?"

Varda drew herself upright and looked down at him, her natural glow intensifying until he was forced to shield his eyes.

"I remind you that it is the Valar, and blessed Ilúvatar, who rule the fates of Arda, not the forgotten gods of the Greeks," Varda said coolly. Her glow faded to a tolerable level, and her expression softened. "It is my belief that this child should find her way on her own, as do all our children, without our help, without our interference. I think her strong enough to stand on her own." When Eros opened his mouth to protest, she held up her hand to silence him. "I will, however, speak to the others. Perhaps a compromise can be made, for although she belongs to Arda now, she was, once, a child of man and under your protection."

"And until then?" Eros asked, not willing to concede defeat.

Varda smiled. "You will respect our wishes. You may observe, nothing more."

Without any god-like interference whatsoever, Laurel had managed to lose her heart to the one individual who could not hurt her: Asfaloth. For the stallion's part, he seemed to honestly return her affection; if Laurel was out anywhere near where the horses grazed, Asfaloth seemed to find her, content to follow her, or simply stand and allow her to pet him. She took to bringing him treats every day, usually carrots or apples raided from the larder, when Glorfindel was otherwise occupied, and that might have had something to do with Asfaloth's eagerness to seek her out.

Whether it was due to Laurel's habit of bringing the stallion treats, or Asfaloth's gentle nature itself, a type of bond formed between them. Laurel found she could pour her troubles into Asfaloth's white ears and he did not judge her, nor could he repeat any of it. It was therapy at its most inexpensive best.

He in turn, received extra attention; his coat had never been so glossy from repeated brushings, his mane and tail never braided so nicely, and the apples and carrots, of course, were always welcome. The brown one had a soft voice and gentle touch, and he did enjoy the way she always seemed to find the places that needed scratching the most.

She had come today, after his rider, the golden one, had left, and she had offered him something different. He took it carefully from her palm and crunched it between his teeth, noting that while it was like the other treats she brought him before, its taste was subtly different.

"It's a pear," the brown one told him, picking up the brush that his rider had left behind and running it over his back in smooth, even strokes. "They've just ripened. I thought you might like it."

Asfaloth snorted and lifted his head, his ears swinging forward in curiosity as he caught a familiar scent. The golden one did not appear immediately, however, which was confusing.

Laurel didn't notice the stallion's focus of attention, some several feet distant, where the corridor of the stables ended. Her fingers were already playing with Asfaloth's mane, beginning to braid several strands into the intricate herringbone pattern that Niním had shown her.

"Elrond has said that I have learned very quickly," the brown one was saying quietly, her small fingers tugging lightly on his mane. Asfaloth blew a soft breath through his nostrils, cocking his hind leg. He flicked one ear back towards her to listen, keeping the other pointed towards where he knew the golden one was hiding. "Erestor says the same thing. They want to know if I'm happy here."  The stallion heard the woman give a horse-like snort. "I should be. Things are much simpler than they were back at home, and everyone has been so good to me. I don't miss home much anymore – except my folks, I do miss them."

Laurel's fingers stilled their braiding and she leaned against Asfaloth's warm hide a moment, simply enjoying the contact with another living being. "Arwen has been so understanding, even though she doesn't know the whole truth. Elrond is patience itself, though honestly I don't know how he does it. Erestor is a bottomless pit of knowledge, and I think he's enjoyed the challenge of trying to teach me all this stuff."  She straightened and returned to her braiding, pulling a piece of blue ribbon from the pocket of her dress and tying the end of the braid in a small bow. "Glorfindel is always very kind and never makes me feel like an outsider."

Asfaloth heard the slightest movement from the golden one's position, and his ears perked forward expectantly. He snorted when his rider still did not appear.

"But for all their kindness, I still feel like I don't belong," Laurel continued, dropping her voice to whisper, even though there was no one else around. "Erestor has given me duties in the library, and I help in the garden as much as I can. I spend time with Arwen, Niním, Merelind and the others – they're teaching me how to do stitching and weaving, which I'm hopeless at, but they don't seem to mind. I enjoy spending time with them, and the others." She sighed quietly. "But I'm still alone." 

The stallion snorted, turning his head to look at her, and she scratched his inquisitive nose.

"All right, I'm not alone, exactly. How can I be, living in a huge house with all these elves? What I meant was…oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand."  She finished the last braid with another ribbon and stepped back to admire her handy work. "You look nice," she said, smiling at her whimsy. "All fancy. Glorfindel should see you now."

Asfaloth rubbed his head against her arm, before turning to look back where his rider was still hiding. He heard the soft, familiar sound of the golden one's tread and realized he was retreating. He whickered softly, ears perked forward hopefully, but his rider did not appear.

"Well, I've got to help Erestor sort some old scrolls," Laurel said, giving the stallion a final pat. "Behave, and don't tell Glorfindel I was here."

Lord Elrond looked up from his reading when a shadow crossed his desk and smiled a greeting to Glorfindel.

"Maur aur, mellonen," he said, putting the book aside after marking his place. "Is there something amiss?"

Glorfindel settled himself comfortably in the chair across from Elrond's desk. "Perhaps. I overheard something today that I thought you should hear."

Elrond's eyebrows lifted slightly and he folded his hands on his desk. "Oh?"

"Aye," Glorfindel nodded, and without preamble, explained the one-sided conversation Laurel had held with his horse. When he finished, he sat back in his chair expectantly.

The Lord of Imladris frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps it is time to send Arwen on a visit to see her grandparents," he said. "I think having Laurel accompany her would be appropriate, and give her the opportunity to meet others, now that she has settled to her life here."

Glorfindel smiled wryly. "You are thinking perhaps the Lady Galadriel can help?"

Elrond nodded. "That occurred to me," he said, smiling as well. "There is no harm in trying, at least."

_Maur aur, mellonen = Good morning, my friend._


	5. Chapter 4

The Game of Love: Strike 

By Khylaren

Chapter 4 

Eros was frustrated by Laurel's lack of progress. He ground his teeth in impotent fury, damning the Valar for not letting him interfere as he so desperately wished to. If he'd been allowed to meddle, Laurel would have had at least one lover by now, if not two. The dark-haired twin sons of the elf lord were prime candidates for such activities. It would take but a simple nudge to divert them from their orc-slaying pastimes towards much more congenial and pleasurable ones.

Of course, neither was the one that Laurel was meant for; **he** was inconveniently located at the moment, or rather, Laurel was. Still, Eros thought the elleth could benefit from a lusty tumble. Despite the fact that she had everything she could need, a stable environment, caring companions, she was still hopelessly locked within herself.

He scowled, wondering how he was to succeed in his plan if he wasn't allowed to directly interfere.

Eros' scowl faded slowly as he recalled Varda's words. He wasn't allowed to directly interfere with Laurel's life. However, there was nothing said about _indirectly_ interfering to make events occur the way he wished.

It was a simple thing to ensure that the golden haired elf, Glorfindel, returned to the stables just in time to hear Laurel's confession to his horse. That wasn't directly interfering with Laurel. Nor was it difficult for him to place reminders of Galadriel and Celeborn in front of Arwen, thus making her long to see her grandparents, and thus plant the idea to visit them in her lovely head. She in turn, played her part by relaying her wish to her father. Then, Glorfindel, troubled by Laurel's words, fulfilled Eros' plan by relaying them to Elrond. Thus, the pieces fell in place.

Laurel would go to Lothlórien.

**_He_** was in Lothlórien.

It was almost too easy, Eros thought with a smug smile.

* * *

Laurel twisted her hands together, studying the arrangement of flowers on Lord Elrond's desk. "You're not sending me away because I did something wrong, are you?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet the kindly elf Lord's gaze. "Not that I don't want to see Lothlórien," she added hastily.

Elrond shook his head. "You have done nothing wrong, Laurel, we are not 'sending you away'. Imladris is your home now, and you will always be welcome here." He rose to his feet and crossed around his desk to stand beside her, looking as if her reaction amused him. "You expressed an interest in seeing other elven realms, and Arwen is missing her grandparents. It seemed to be the perfect solution to have you accompany her on her visit."

"Oh." Laurel relaxed visibly, and offered him a shy smile. "Well, then I suppose I should go and pack."

"Indeed," he agreed, his lips curving slightly.

"Who else is going?" she asked him curiously.

"Lord Glorfindel has offered to escort Arwen, yourself, and several of her ladies. I do believe Elladan and Elrohir are planning on going as well," he answered.

Her smile brightened. "Oh, good."

Elrond could not resist. "Yes, well, Asfaloth would have missed you terribly while you were away." His voice lowered as he shook his head. "I am afraid Lord Glorfindel does not bring him pears stolen from my gardens the moment they are ripe."

Laurel flushed, knowing she was caught. "Well," she said, lifting her chin. "He likes them."

"So he does," Elrond replied with a sage nod. "And I do not begrudge such a valiant steed fruit from my gardens, so long as he remembers to leave me at least one or two, that I might enjoy them as well."

She surprised him then by turning and hugging him swiftly. "Thank you," she murmured, and was gone in a flurry of skirts. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"You are welcome," he murmured, before returning to his work.

* * *

Erestor looked up from his work as Laurel entered the library, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed with color. He sat back in his chair, dropping his quill on the parchment and regarded her with raised eyebrows.

"What have you been doing, pen-rein?"

Laurel smiled, reaching for a stack of books and hugging them tight to her chest. "Funny you should call me that," she said, moving with barely contained energy to the bookshelves. "Lord Elrond has said I'm going to Lothlórien!"

Erestor nodded, smiling faintly. "Yes. I knew that already."

"I'm going to see the Mellyrn, Erestor!" she said excitedly. "And Caras Galadhon. I'm going to sleep in a talan and meet Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn."

"Yes," he replied dryly. "And I have resigned myself to working in peace and quiet for a change." He affected an air of martyrdom. "Alas, how shall I manage?"

"I'm sorry, Erestor," she said, sobering quickly. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

He surprised her by chuckling softly. "I am not bothered," he replied. "To be honest, I have enjoyed teaching you. It is rare that my students have such a thirst for knowledge as you have often demonstrated."

Laurel nodded, smiling briefly. "Well, it was either learn as much as I could, or remain hopelessly lost and ignorant. I'm just glad you had the patience to put up with it all." She finished shelving the books and turned, wiping her dusty hands on the skirt of her dress. "Anyway, I just came to say goodbye."

Erestor nodded. "A suggestion, Laurel, while you are a guest in the Golden Wood. Lord Celeborn is a knowledgeable elf, and has a rather extensive library. It would behoove you to seek him out and ask for his assistance in continuing your education, if you are so inclined." His smile grew at her hopeful expression. "Like myself, he enjoys sharing the gift of knowledge with those who truly appreciate it."

"Thank you. I'll do that," Laurel said, her eyes brightening once more. "I have to pack, now." She turned and left, closing the door the library quietly behind her.

Peace descended, blessed silence filling the library once more, and Erestor sighed before returning to his work.

pen-rein = wandering one

* * *

The Hall of Fire was warm and lit with the bright glow of so many fires that lamps were not needed. Laurel found herself seated on a cushion near Arwen, her chin resting on her hand, as she listened to Lindir sing.

She wasn't paying much attention to the words. Quite frankly, she was half-drowsy from the wine she'd had at dinner and from the warmth of the fires. But it was pleasant, sitting here among the elves, listening to Lindir's sweet voice.

It almost felt right.

Laurel sighed, shifting slightly on the floor, wishing she could simply sprawl out like Elrohir was currently doing. Of course, that wouldn't be very ladylike, but she wasn't feeling very ladylike at the moment.

What she was feeling was rather…well, horny, not to put too fine a point on it. The sultry looks Elladan kept giving her weren't helping, and she idly wondered how many cups of wine he'd had at this point.

It was out of the question, of course. She liked Elladan and his twin very much, but she felt more like a beleaguered friend of their sister than any sort of romantic interest in them. The way Arwen spoke of them, they had quite the reputation for being utter scamps, rascals, and flirts, and while they'd both had lovers aplenty between them, neither seemed willing to settle on any single elleth. They were both sexy beyond anything that Laurel had ever seen, but she had no interest in becoming yet another elleth to succumb to their wit and charm, only to be left with a broken heart and an empty bed as they went off on other pursuits. She wondered what their father thought of their behavior, and whether he approved of it or not.

Thinking of Lord Elrond made her search for him in the crowd, and she found him quickly, seated beside Lord Erestor, a cup of wine held in his elegant hand.

Now there was an elf who made her feel weak in the knees without even trying. It figured, Laurel silently grumbled, all the while admiring his handsome form, the way his robes fell open to reveal the broadness of his chest. He was kind, intelligent, handsome, and gentle; the one elf she could see herself totally falling for, and he was already taken. It just wasn't fair.

Or perhaps, the not-so-nice-had-a-bit-too-much-wine-at-supper part of her mind thought, the reason she was attracted to him was because he was unattainable, and therefore safe. He could never break her heart.

It didn't matter, she decided, accepting another cup of mulled wine from a passing servant with gracious thanks. She had enough on her plate as it was, and she had all the time in Arda to find the right someone she could trust not to rip out her heart and stomp on it. Repeatedly. With cleats.

She finished her wine, and found herself morosely wishing that the powers that had stuck her in this world would have at least had the consideration to send her vibrator along.

Elladan was looking better by the minute, so she decided it was a good time to excuse herself and go to bed before she made a regrettable mistake.

* * *

Anteros sat back with a heavy scowl, cracking his knuckles irritably. His nudge hadn't worked, for he hadn't counted on Laurel's strength of will.

Well, it didn't matter. There were other ways to best his brother. Perhaps he should try his hand at Eros' own game. After all, if it worked for his brother, it would work even better for him.

With that thought, he set his sights on Earth, and began to plan.

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 5

* * *

The Game of Love: Strike 

By Khylaren

Chapter 5 

Despite Laurel's amiable relationship with Asfaloth, she never took to riding. She'd been taught to ride during her nearly two years in Imladris, but for the most part, she'd remained nothing more than a white knuckled, grim-faced passenger, relieved when her time on horseback came to an end.

It was a mystery to Glorfindel, who had been the one responsible for teaching Laurel the basics of riding. Elves had a natural affinity with all living creatures, and Laurel's relationship with Asfaloth proved without a doubt that she shared that affinity with her kindred. However, when it came to actually riding, she was hopeless and her explanation that it was 'because the horses were so tall' did not really help. It was an irrational fear, as far as he was concerned, but there was little he could do beyond instructing her as best he could.

Therefore, the ride to Lothlórien was not without its difficulties.

Glorfindel had selected the most docile and gentlest of palfrey's for Laurel. Gwaloth was also the shortest of all the mares in Imladris' stable. Laurel had done fine initially, and seemed to warm to Gwaloth, petting her and talking to her as easily as she did Asfaloth. Until it was time to mount her.

Gwaloth, being sensitive to her rider's tense mood, immediately became antsy, tossing her head, shifting from foot to foot, her cream-colored ears flicking back and forth uncertainly. Still, Laurel was willing to ride, and as their trip progressed, she seemed to relax a little.

Until they reached Lórien, that is.

They had just reached the border when Glorfindel heard a frightened scream, and a cream-colored streak darted past him in a flurry of pounding hooves as Laurel clung precariously to Gwaloth's back. Elladan and Elrohir were already moving out, attempting to catch the runaway mare before Laurel fell. They reached her moments too late.

The guardians of Lothlórien's border, seeing a horse galloping towards them, obviously out of control, had taken matters into their own hands. Glorfindel distinctly heard one of them shout "Daro!" at Gwaloth. The mare, long trained to heed such commands, especially when shouted in such an authoritative manner, skidded to an abrupt halt. Laurel, unprepared for such a sudden maneuver, was pitched from her back like a sack of flour, and fell in an ungraceful heap of skirts and slippers at the marchwarden's feet.

* * *

Laurel's ears rang, her hip and backside aching from the sudden impact on the hard ground. Her dress, to her mortification, had slid upward during her impromptu dismount, and she was aware she was exposing most of her legs to a rapidly growing audience. She managed to push the dress back down, her face burning with humiliation as she struggled to rise. A hand grasped hers and pulled her unceremoniously to her feet.

"Are you injured?" a male voice asked courteously.

"Just my pride," she said, embarrassed beyond belief. She spent several moments brushing dried leaves and grass bits from her skirt to avoid looking up. Only when she heard Elladan and Elrohir's voices did she finally give in to the inevitable and lifted her head.

The elf who had assisted her looked her over in a perfunctory manner, as if verifying with his own eyes that she was, indeed, uninjured, before turning his attention to Elladan and Elrohir.

"Mae Govannen, my Lords," he said, inclining his head respectfully and touching his heart.

They greeted him warmly, before turning their attention to Laurel and her wayward horse.

"What happened?" Elladan asked, holding the now-docile Gwaloth by her bridle.

"You seemed to be doing better, earlier," Elrohir added, frowning at her.

Laurel flushed and looked away. "There was a bee that would not leave me alone. It kept flying around my head, so I swatted at it. Gwaloth spooked when I started waving my arms." Her humiliation was now complete. Not only had she embarrassed herself in front of the Lórien elves within seconds of arriving at the border, but now they would think she was a fool as well.

By the time she had finished, Glorfindel, Arwen, and the other escorts had arrived. To her chagrin, and continual embarrassment, she had to repeat her story to them as well, all the while the handful of guardians dressed in gray waited patiently. Glorfindel managed not to laugh, but she could see the strain of holding it back in his eyes. Arwen looked concerned, but Niním and Merelind seemed to find something very interesting in the grass at their feet and would not look at her. Laurel noted the open grins on the twin's faces with a sinking feeling. There would be no end to their teasing.

She wished a convenient hole would open up and swallow her. Alas, not so much as a crack appeared at her feet.

Their escort to Caras Galadhon would consist of three of the guardians who had met them at the border, and Laurel was introduced briefly to them. Their names were Haldir, Rúmil, and Orophin, though the introductions went so quickly she didn't have time to figure out who was who. Glorfindel was satisfied that all was well, having delivered his charges safely to the border of the Golden Wood, and said his farewells before tugging Laurel off to the side.

"I think you better say your farewells to Asfaloth now," he said gravely, though his eyes glinted with good-natured humor. "Otherwise I will be explaining to my grumpy horse why you have not brought him any treats from Lord Elrond's garden."

Laurel petted Asfaloth's neck and the stallion turned, nudging her hand until she scratched his soft nose. "Does everyone in Imladris know I sneak Asfaloth treats?" she asked.

"No," Glorfindel replied. "No one else save Lord Elrond knows, and you can trust him not to reveal your secret."

She hugged Asfaloth's neck. "Who am I going to spill all my woes to now?" she murmured, inhaling his horsey scent. She felt Glorfindel's hand on her shoulder and turned, releasing Asfaloth reluctantly.

"Perhaps," Glorfindel said carefully, "You will find someone in Lórien who will listen without judgment."

She nodded, and on impulse, embraced him swiftly. "Thank you, Glorfindel."

He returned her hug with one arm, smiling. "You are welcome, Laurel."

She watched Glorfindel ride away on Asfaloth, the other escorts from Imladris riding behind him, and sighed. Gwaloth and the other horses were taken and led away by several of the Galadhrim, leaving them to complete their journey to Caras Galadhon on foot. She swallowed her trepidation at meeting so many new elves and hoped that she wouldn't end up being known as "the elleth who fell off her horse".

"It will be all right," Arwen said softly, for her ears alone. "You will be fine."

Laurel offered her a faint smile. "How did you know what I was thinking?"

Arwen laughed quietly. "Your face hides nothing, Laurel. It was easy to guess."

Filing that away for future reference, Laurel followed behind Arwen as the three Galadhrim led them deeper into the Golden Wood, Niním and Merelind following alongside her.

* * *

It was three days walk to the great city that was the heart of Elvendom on Arda, home of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. In those three days, Laurel managed to learn to distinguish their three escorts and match their names to their faces.

The serious one with the lightest gray eyes was Haldir, and apparently, he was the Captain of the Wardens of Lothlórien. Though he seldom laughed out loud, she did see him smiling sometimes, usually at something one of the twins had to say.

Orophin's eyes were darker gray, and he laughed more often than Haldir, though he could be deadly serious when he was focused on something. He often walked behind the party, taking rear guard, and Laurel didn't really get much opportunity to speak with him.

In contrast, Rúmil had blue eyes the color of cornflowers, and a light, infectious laugh. He seemed rarely serious, though it was obvious he was good at his job and that he took his duties seriously. He most often walked just in front of Arwen, and would occasionally drop back to flirt shamelessly with all of the females of the group before darting ahead to scout the terrain for trouble.

The first day of walking, Laurel was lost simply looking at the trees. Their size eclipsed anything she'd ever seen. Not even the ancient California redwoods came close to the girth of the mallorn trees. And the colors amazed her; gold leaves and silver bark, deep green moss clinging to the trunks and lower branches. She'd read all about the great mellyrn, but seeing them was something else entirely.

The effect hadn't lessened any by the time they reached Caras Galadhon. In fact, in was amplified ten-fold, and Laurel knew she must have looked silly standing there at the top of the hill, simply gaping, but she couldn't help it. She didn't realize that Haldir had stopped beside her until he spoke.

"It still affects me like that on occasion," he told her simply. "There is no place on Arda more beautiful to me." With that, he continued on ahead, catching up to Elladan and Elrohir with swift, ground-eating strides.

Surprised that he had spoken to her, she watched him walk ahead, until Arwen tugged lightly on her arm as she passed. "Come, Laurel. You do not want to be last, do you?"

Laurel saw that Niním and Merelind had already passed them, so she fell in step beside Arwen, her eyes fixed on the lovely sight ahead of her. She was only peripherally aware of Orophin walking behind them.

"Are you and your brothers staying in the city for a while?" Arwen asked, looking back at Orophin.

The guardian nodded, giving her a smile. "Aye. 'Tis the end of our watch, and we are glad of it. We do not go back for another fortnight."

Arwen laughed. "My brothers will be happy to hear it. No one in Imladris will wager in cards against them, and they have been eager to have someone to play with again."

Orophin chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, they will not find us so easy to beat, this time," he said, grinning. "We have been playing since their last stay, and I believe we have improved greatly."

"What sort of things do you wager?" Laurel asked curiously, knowing that Elves didn't bother with currency.

He handed her one of his arrows, fletched with white feathers. She took it from him gingerly, turning it carefully in her hands and examining it. "You wager arrows?"

Orophin inclined his head slightly. "I am rather well known for my fletching," he said.

"What about the others?" Laurel handed his arrow back, being mindful of the tip.

He took it from her and placed it in his quiver. "Sometimes it is a task, like repairing and cleaning weapons, or it can be a skill, like my fletching or Rúmil's carving." He showed her the scabbard of his belt-knife, and she admired the pattern etched deeply in the stiff leather. "Haldir's skill," he explained with brotherly pride. "His designs are best."

They climbed the wide, winding stairs that spiraled around the trunk of an enormous mallorn, stairs that led to the very tops of the trees. Everywhere she looked she saw more trees with spiraling stairs, lit with glittering lamps that looked like thousands of fireflies ringing the trunks.

"There are no bees this high up," Elrohir whispered to her as he passed her.

She scowled at the back of his head, wishing she could come up with a good retort that would silence both Elrohir's and Elladan's teasing. They had been merciless the entire three days of their journey deeper into Lothlórien, and it was beginning to wear on her nerves. It was difficult enough trying to make a good impression on strangers without having them constantly remind everyone of her less-than-graceful entry into their realm.

Thankfully, their three escorts did not seem inclined to join the twins in their teasing of Laurel, and she was grateful for that. Haldir in particular seemed to find no humor in the situation. Rúmil and Orophin had smiled at first, but their expressions became less amused as the comments and jokes at her expense wore on.

Arwen caught the look on Laurel's face and frowned, knowing well that it was one of her brothers that had put it there. The elleth said nothing, but Laurel could see the look in her eyes; it boded ill for Elladan and Elrohir.

"I can't believe I was even tempted to sleep with him," Laurel muttered softly, earning a swift and confused look from Rúmil. She gave him a smile, which he returned with a wink.

They reached the top and stepped out onto a wide, wooden platform. Haldir, Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen took places at the bottom of a short flight of steps, and Laurel found herself standing between Orophin and Rúmil, Niním and Merelind on either side of them. Laurel looked up, her eyes widening slightly as two elves slowly descended the steps.

Lord Celeborn, for it had to be him, was as fair as Lord Elrond was dark. Waist length silver hair was crowned with a gleaming circlet shaped in the delicate pattern of leaves. His robes were a soft blue that flowed gracefully with each step. His eyes were the color of a clear summer sky, and held the wisdom of ages. His face was kindly, and though it wore a serious expression, looked as if it were far more used to smiling and laughter.

Where Celeborn was silver, Galadriel was gold, from her long golden hair to the glow of her skin. Her eyes were a deeper shade of blue, like the blue of an unflawed sapphire. Like Celeborn, her eyes held the wisdom of years beyond measure, and her face was gentle in appearance.

Elladan and Elrohir stepped forward as one to greet their grandmother, placing kisses on opposite cheeks, making her smile.

"I trust you are well and have not been into mischief?" Galadriel asked with a small, knowing smile.

"Always, Iaurnana," they replied, and Laurel stifled a laugh, because it was obvious that this was something she asked them frequently, their answer sounded so well-rehearsed.

Celeborn greeted them next. "I am glad to see you again," he said warmly. "Your visits are always welcome."

It was not the type of family reunion that Laurel was used to seeing, the kind with hugging, kissing, tears and laughter. It was quite reserved in comparison, but Laurel suspected that a more emotional display would probably take place the moment everyone else was gone.

Merelind and Niním needed no introduction, having accompanied Arwen on visits before, so only Laurel was introduced to the Lord and Lady. She greeted them, grateful for Erestor's insistence that she learn matters of protocol when meeting high-ranking elves.

"How do you find our realm thus far?" Celeborn asked kindly.

"It is beautiful," Laurel answered truthfully. "I am anxious to see more of it."

Galadriel smiled, pleased with her answer. "I am certain you are weary from your traveling. A place has been prepared for your stay," she said, directing her gaze at Laurel, Niním and Merelind. "Go now and take your rest."

* * *

Eros smiled smugly, rubbing his hands together. Without directly influencing Laurel, he'd managed to achieve what he wanted. They were both in the same place, and already had they'd had somewhat favorable contact with each other. The Valar would have no issue with any of his actions so far, he was certain of it.

Now all that remained was to see if events played out as he wished. If not, well, there were ways of making things happen that would not get him into too much trouble with the Valar. A little risk was worth the results, and besides, life was just so much more interesting when there was the added hint of danger.

Immortality could be so tedious otherwise.


	7. Chapter 6

The Game of Love: Strike Chapter 6 

They watched the elleths leave, before making their courtesies to their Lord and Lady. Haldir kept his report to them short and concise. He knew they were eager to visit with their family, and that a more detailed report would be expected from him in writing. His brothers had little to add, and waited patiently in the background for him to finish.

They left together, heading for the talan they shared when they were not on duty. Rúmil immediately left again, returning moments later with a small basket of bread and fruit.

"We shall have to visit the market tomorrow," his youngest brother said ruefully, setting their repast out on the table in quick, economic movements.

Orophin passed him, his arms full of clean clothing and a towel. "You may go to the market tomorrow, muindor," he said, smiling in a rather pleased fashion. "I have more important things to accomplish with my day."

Haldir lifted his gaze from the bottle of wine he was opening and fixed Orophin with a curious look. "Oh?" He pulled the cork from the wine and set it gently on the table to breathe. "What could possibly have garnered your attention so swiftly? We have only just returned."

"An elleth," Orophin replied, lifting a bar of soap to his nose and smelling it, before setting it aside and reaching for another. "A fair elleth, whose sweet charms I have not yet tasted."

Rúmil snickered quietly, earning him a sharp look from Orophin. "Few are left indeed you have not sampled," he said. "I am not surprised you set your sights on such as she, for she knows not your reputation!"

"You are speaking of Laurel?" Haldir asked, watching as Orophin selected yet another soap.

"Yes, of course. Whom else would I be speaking of?" Orophin asked, finally settling on a scented soap that he liked. "Merelind? That elleth has too sharp a tongue for my taste, and while Niním was a pleasant distraction, I found her conversation lacking."

"I did not know you spent enough time with Niním to converse, muindor," Haldir said dryly. He poured the wine into a glass and tasted it, nodding with approval at the flavor. "Regardless, I do not believe Laurel to be to your taste, muindor. She seems…rather reserved."

Orophin lifted an eyebrow, a smile quirking his lips. "Oh? She seemed friendly enough when I spoke with her on the journey here. She was quite impressed with my fletching."

Rúmil rolled his eyes. "Forget it, muindor. She would not suit you, I think. She needs an elf with a sensitive nature, someone who will woo her with soft words and tender caresses." He winked at Orophin.

"Oho! Someone like you perhaps, gentle muindor?" Orophin taunted, though his expression was playful.

"Aye," Rúmil said with a small grin. "Indeed. Your passionate nature would overwhelm someone like her."

Haldir snorted, shaking his head. "You both speak of her as if you know her, when in truth you have only known her for three days. That is little time in which to make such an impression of someone, especially an elleth."

Rúmil and Orophin shared a look, before turning their attention to their eldest brother.

"You could not woo her," Orophin said decisively, shaking his head. "You would bore her to weeping, waiting for you to make the first move."

"Aye, and you would frighten her into hiding," Haldir retorted, his lips twitching a little as he fought back a smile. "I think of the three of us, I would be the perfect choice."

"You both are quite wrong for her," Rúmil said, taking a bite of fruit and chewing thoughtfully. "If anyone will capture Laurel's affections, I think it would be me."

It was Haldir and Orophin's turn to share a look, before turning their attention to Rúmil.

"Would you perhaps care to make a wager on that, muindor?" Haldir asked, arching an eyebrow.

Rúmil looked from Haldir to Orophin, frowning slightly. "What precisely are we wagering on?" he asked.

Orophin smiled wickedly. "On which of us will successfully win Laurel's regard, muindor. Have you not been paying attention?"

"I have," Rúmil replied, a bit more defensively than he meant to. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "How far must it go?"

"A kiss," Haldir suggested, making Orophin laugh. "What?"

Orophin shook his head, still chuckling. "I will have won the wager before the day is done, if that is all that is needed."

"A willing kiss," Haldir amended, frowning at his amused brother. "Not a stolen one."

"No," Rúmil said. "A kiss proves nothing. An elleth may kiss an ellon in friendship or in rare passion, yet give no more than that."

Haldir's eyebrows lifted sharply. "Then by what measure to we use to determine the winner of this wager?"

"The bed," Orophin said. "Whoever she chooses to accept as a lover is the winner."

Rúmil's eyes widened. "I think that hardly fair, muindor," he said finally, shaking his head. "Too woo a maiden to bed as a means to win a wager. If you win, will you leave her after you collect on your winnings?"

Orophin frowned. "You are cold, Rúmil. I would not do such a thing if I found her fair enough. Perhaps I would even love her truly."

Haldir shook his head. "Nay, Rúmil has the right of it. It seems wrong to coldly seek an elleth's bed in such a fashion. It would be a falsehood from the start, and there would be no joy in it."

"Then what means are we to use to determine who is the victor?" Orophin asked.

"Love," Rúmil answered softly, a shy smile curving his lips. "Whichever of us wins the elleth's heart is the winner."

Haldir and Orophin looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted an extra head.

"You cannot be serious," Orophin said, snorting. "We barely know this elleth!"

"Aye," Rúmil replied, not deterred in the least by Orophin's derision. "And therefore I say we should seek to know her, to woo her with honest intent, and thereby discover if our hearts belong with hers or not."

Haldir frowned, studying his glass of wine for a moment. "That seems more fair," he finally said, looking up at his brothers.

"Fair?" Orophin retorted. "It is ridiculous. I will have no part of this wager, for I am not yet ready to settle into a relationship of such magnitude. I am too young yet."

Rúmil smiled. "I am younger than you, muindor, but I am not afraid to seek love if it should beckon."

Orophin's eyes narrowed at his brother's words. "Afraid?"

"Aye." It was Haldir who answered. "I think you lack the courage for this endeavor."

"What?" Orophin's outburst was immediate. "My courage is not lacking. Merely I do not wish to lose my heart."

Rúmil shared a conspiratorial look with Haldir. "Aye." He sighed, shaking his head mournfully. "It is a pity."

Orophin growled, knowing he was being baited, but unable to resist the lure. "Fine," he said shortly. "What do we wager?"

* * *

Laurel unpacked her clothing, listening to the idle chatter of Merelind and Niním as they settled into their guest quarters.

"What will you wear this evening?" Niním asked, holding up a dress and shaking the wrinkles from it.

"I have not thought of it," Merelind answered. "Perhaps I will not attend."

"Silly. You know you would not miss it," Niním answered with a light laugh.

"What are you talking about?" Laurel asked curiously, watching the two elleths move gracefully back and forth between their rooms.

Merelind favored her with a smile. "Whenever their family visits, the Lord and Lady hold a celebration, with food, wine and dancing. Everyone in the city will attend in honor of Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir."

A formal dinner party with dancing, surrounded by a bunch of elves she didn't know. It sounded like a form of social torture. While she was looking forward to meeting new elves and making friends, she did not especially wish to do it in such a setting. She had wanted to ease into the social life of Lothlórien, as she had in Imladris, not be thrust into it all at once.

Unfortunately, neither Niním nor Merelind would hear of her staying behind.

"Oh no, you must go," Merelind insisted, already rifling through Laurel's wardrobe for a suitable dress. "You are new, and therefore interesting. Everyone will want to see you." She pulled out a dress and held it up with a sly smile. "The ellons will not be able to look away when they see you in this. They will all want to partner you for the dances."

"But I cannot dance," Laurel protested, as Niním turned her around to face a floor length mirror.

"It matters little," Niním giggled, tossing her blonde hair over one shoulder as her fingers delicately picked at the ties that held Laurel's dress. "You will learn quick enough."

In a matter of moments, her traveling gown was gone, replaced by the very same bottle green gown she had worn when she first arrived in Arda. Merelind smiled at her reflection approvingly.

"You will break hearts, Laurel."

Niním eyed her hair critically, before herding Laurel into a chair and taking up a comb to straighten the tangled mess of reddish brown locks. "Perhaps you might catch the eye of the Captain himself," she said with a light laugh.

"Or one of his brothers," Merelind added, taking another seat to braid her own hair. "They may feel they have the advantage over the others, having traveled with you the past three days." She sighed, reaching up to place a golden clip in her dark hair, pinning it back artistically. "They are all three so very handsome."

"What about you two?" Laurel asked weakly, watching as Niním effortlessly plaited the center strands of her hair, wrapping it around the top of her head and pinning it into place. Her question made Niním blush and laugh merrily.

"Oh, I have no interest in either Orophin or Rúmil any longer. My heart yearns for something new and interesting," the elleth answered. "And Haldir is much too serious for my taste, though he is comely enough."

"She means to say that both Orophin and Rúmil have paid court to her, but not won her hand," Merelind told Laurel conspiratorially. "There is another here that she has had her heart set upon, but he has not yet noticed her."

"Hush, Merelind," Niním told her friend with a playful scowl. "Perhaps I have given up on him and have interest in another."

Merelind rolled her eyes but nodded dutifully. "As you say. Myself, I care not, so long as he is kind and dances well. I wish to dance until I cannot dance any longer!"

A bouquet of wildflowers in a simple, blue vase sat on a low table beside Laurel's bed. Niním picked several small, white blossoms from the bouquet and placed them carefully between the braided strands of hair that circled the crown of Laurel's head, ignoring her protest that it was too much.

"There," Niním said with an approving smile. "You look lovely, Laurel."

Laurel felt her cheeks warm under Niním's kind praise and looked at her reflection. A tall, willowy-limbed elleth with hair the color of cinnamon stared back with uncertain eyes. The green of the dress did flatter her pale complexion, as well as her dark brown eyes. The flowers did seem a bit over the top, though.

"Nonsense," Merelind told her with a wry smile. "Every single maiden will be wearing them this eve. 'Tis how the ellons know who is available!" Her own dark locks were decorated with bright, yellow flowers.

Niním carefully placed tiny blue colored blossoms in her pale silvery hair. "It is a game, you see. The males will try to steal a flower from your hair without being caught. If they succeed, then you owe them a favor." At Laurel's widened eyes, Niním hastened to explain. "It can be anything from a dance, to a stroll, or even a kiss."

"But if you catch them trying to steal a flower, then it is they who owe you a favor," Merelind said with a wink.

Laurel's knees felt rather weak so she sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to wrinkle her dress. "I do not recall reading about this or hearing about such a thing in Imladris," she said finally, feeling both overwhelmed and more than a bit apprehensive. What if she said the wrong thing? What if no one asked her to dance at all?

"Oh, that is because it is only a tradition in Lórien," Niním answered. "I do believe Lady Celebrían began it when she reached her majority, to entice the eye of a certain elf Lord who ended up being her husband!" She dropped her voice to a whisper, though there was none to overhear. "Though it is said that she need not have gone to such lengths at all, for Lord Elrond fell in love with her the moment he saw her."

Laurel sighed at the image Niním's whispered words conjured. To be so lucky, to see someone and know instantly that they were the one, and to be right about it! She'd never been a believer in love at first sight, but apparently it was not completely unheard of for elves. It was rare, but it happened.

She knew, from talking to Arwen and the other elleths, that it was not at all unheard of for elves to take lovers before binding themselves forever to their one true love. There was no stigma attached to sharing physical intimacy, so long as the elves in question were of age. Lord Celeborn himself had been Lady Galadriel's lover long before they became formally bound.

Was she ready for such a step?

Laurel reached up and touched the white blossoms in her hair with her fingertips and stared at her reflection. The presence of the flowers declared that she was ready, but her mind was uncertain if that was true or not. Did she dare leave them, or should she take them out?

"Do not look so apprehensive, meldis," Merelind told her kindly, catching Laurel's worried look in the mirror. "It is supposed to be a celebration, a time of merriment."

"Enjoy the night and the attention," Niním added gaily, rising from her chair to twirl in a flurry of dark blue silk. "Enjoy all that life has to hold."

Caught up in the elleths' enthusiasm, Laurel laughed softly. Perhaps she was ready, or perhaps she was not. She would never find out if she didn't try.

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 7

The Game of Love: Strike Chapter 7 

The musicians were already playing by the time the three elleths reached the forest floor, and Laurel could hear the sweet sounds of lute and harp above the excited chattering of her companions. Lanterns hung everywhere, casting their golden glow on the path that led to a large clearing between the trees. Long tables, covered with food, wine, and flowers were placed in the center, and everywhere she looked elves gathered, either standing or sitting on the soft grass, eating, drinking, and laughing merrily.

There were far more elves in Caras Galadhon than in Imladris, she realized, falling back behind Merelind as they drew closer. There were at least twice as many, if not half again more than that. She fell further behind, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the sight of so many, especially when they were finally noticed.

Merelind had warned her that being new, she would be of great interest, as Lórien elves were every bit as curious as their Imladris counterparts, though they tended to be less trusting of strangers initially. Because she had arrived in such illustrious company, however, there was no suspicion in the eyes that met hers. Only open curiosity. Having so many pairs of eyes watching her made her terribly self-conscious, and she was seized by the urge to simply turn tail and flee back to her talan.

Unfortunately, that wasn't an option as at that precise moment, Elladan and Elrohir appeared, as if by magic, at either side of her.

"Come and greet Iaurnana," Elrohir said, taking her hand and placing it on the crook of his arm, his twin doing the same with the other. "She wishes to speak with you."

Laurel looked at both of them mistrustfully, waiting for the teasing comments to begin. Surprisingly, neither looked the least bit mischievous. As if sensing her train of thought, Elladan gave her a rueful smile.

"Arwen told us to look after you, at least until you are more comfortable. And we are to apologize for our earlier behavior."

Elrohir nodded, his lips twisting into a wry grin. "Aye. Though it was fun at the time, perhaps we carried the joke a bit far. It was not fair of us to tease you thus in front of the others."

"Will you forgive us?" Elladan asked with a disturbingly charming smile.

Laurel's body gave a responding lurch, but she ignored its hormone-induced pleas. "I suppose," she said finally, laughing at their delighted grins. "That doesn't mean I'll forgive you next time."

"Of course not," Elrohir replied. "But I hope that does mean you will save us a dance."

The Lady of Lothlórien looked surprisingly young and girlish, sitting on the grass with her bare feet peeping out beneath her dress. When Laurel had initially met her, she was every inch the Lady of her realm, tall, powerful, and somewhat intimidating. Seeing her sitting on the grass with her hair unbound, her eyes sparkling with happiness and welcome, Galadriel seemed much like any other elleth she had met.

Laurel obligingly sat next to her at Galadriel's invitation, and hid her own bare feet beneath the edges of her dress.

"I am glad to see you attend our celebration, Laurel," Galadriel said kindly. "I hope you will enjoy our hospitality?"

"Thank you," Laurel replied, smiling as the twins loped off like young gazelles in search of food. "I'm sure I will." She felt Galadriel's gaze on her and shifted nervously, feeling as if suddenly her entire life was being laid bare before her.

Galadriel gave her a faint smile. "Elrond has told me about you," she said simply.

"Oh?" Laurel relaxed slightly, relieved that Galadriel knew and did not seem to censure her for it. "Well, that's good then."

"Celeborn knows as well, of course, for it is right that he should; there are no secrets kept between us," the lady continued, her smile warming at the mention of her husband. "You will find him most curious about your life before you came here, I will warn you. He can be quite single minded in his pursuit of knowledge." She laughed softly.

Laurel nodded faintly. "Lord Erestor mentioned that Lord Celeborn might be willing to continue my education, if I asked him."

Galadriel inclined her head gracefully, her hair sliding across her shoulders with the movement. "You will have to put the question to him yourself, Laurel, but I imagine he will be glad to do it. He enjoys teaching others very much, especially if they share his thirst for learning."

"I don't know about thirsting for it," Laurel said, shifting slightly so her feet now appeared from beneath her dress. "But I really enjoy it. It helps me to fit in with the others better." She studied her toes, curling them in the grass, not minding the silence that fell between them.

"Elrond is worried for you," Galadriel said finally, and Laurel looked up in surprise.

"Worried? Why is he worried?"

Galadriel raised an arm and gracefully gestured to the scene laid out before them. "You have learned much over the short time you have been among us, yet he sees that you are still alone; you have not opened your heart to others."

Laurel looked at her in disbelief. "He's worried about my love life?"

The lady laughed, shaking her head. "No, Laurel. It is not that. It is that while you have learned and adjusted to your new life, you do not fully embrace it. You act as though you are merely playing the part expected of you. There is little happiness for you in such a role, Laurel." Her smile faded and she regarded Laurel seriously. "You must embrace your new life and live it fully. Open your heart to others; they are waiting for you to let them in. It is not physical love that I speak of, but of trust and friendship. The other may come later, if you so desire, but do not hold those who care for you at arms length." Galadriel surprised her by reaching out and touching her face, smiling gently. "Do not squander the gift you have been given by being alone, locked within yourself. Such a lonely existence would bring you no peace, no happiness."

"I – I suppose I never really looked at it that way," Laurel said softly. Her hands folded the material of her dress, twisting it slightly. "Maybe you're right." Her confession earned her a dimpled smile from Galadriel. "Well, you have been around a bit longer than me, I suppose that gives you some insight."

Galadriel laughed softly. "Indeed."

Laurel sighed. "I guess I'm just afraid. I _have_ accepted that I'm here, that this is my life now. But it's hard, you know?" She looked up at Galadriel, searching for understanding on the wise lady's face. "I'm not like you. I'm not like the others. I'm afraid that if I let someone in, they won't accept me for who I am."

"Elrond has accepted you," Galadriel reminded her gently. "As have Erestor and Glorfindel."

"That's because they know the truth," Laurel said, sighing again.

"So do Arwen, Elladan and Elrohir," Galadriel said quietly.

Laurel's head shot up in surprise. "What?"

Galadriel nodded. "They know. There are no secrets within our family, Laurel. Their father told them the truth shortly after your arrival." A knowing smile curved her lips. "You did not know this? Tell me, have they treated you any differently?"

"No," Laurel whispered, shaking her head. "They never acted like they knew."

"They accept you, Laurel, and so will the others if you let them close. Share the truth of your secret only with those you feel you can trust with its knowledge, but do not hide any longer in fear." Galadriel touched her cheek again, cupping it gently. "You are young, and your life is ahead of you. Go, enjoy the gift of it." She dropped her hand away and smiled. "I see Elladan is returning to fetch you."

Laurel rose to her feet, brushing the bits of loose grass that had stuck to her dress. "Thank you, lady," she said. "I will try to do as you suggest."

* * *

Eros laughed, rubbing his hands together with glee. The Lady had unwittingly eased the way, and he was quite pleased with the results.

Seeing no reason to interfere - however indirectly - at this point, he poured himself a Guinness Stout (really, one of the best things to come from the realm of Earth) and sat back to watch as the drama unfolded before him.

* * *

Dropping her guard was a little easier after her third glass of wine. She leaned on Elladan's arm, smiling up at him occasionally, and thoroughly enjoyed being escorted by him as he introduced her to his friends.

Their names all ran together after a while, but she decided it didn't matter; they could hardly expect her to remember after the eighth or ninth one. Elladan flirted outrageously with her, and for a change, she flirted back, made overbold by the wine and strengthened by Galadriel's advice.

"You really must drink wine more often," Elladan told her, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "It makes your cheeks flush quite becomingly."

Laurel felt goose bumps shiver her skin as the warmth of his breath lingered on her neck. "I have not had enough wine to fall for your charms though," she replied, laughing as he gave her a crestfallen look.

"You wound me," he exclaimed. "To think that I would have to ply you with drink to woo you into my arms. I do not know whether to be insulted, or to fetch you another glass!"

She opened her mouth to reply, and felt herself whirled away into another pair of arms. Elrohir grinned cheekily down at her surprised expression, before smiling smugly at his brother, holding up a small, white blossom, stolen from Laurel's hair.

"You are going at it entirely the wrong way, muindor," Elrohir laughed, twirling the flower in front of Laurel's nose. "Though I agree with the sentiment. You should have more wine, if it makes you smile so freely."

Laurel flushed, aware of Elrohir's arms around her waist, pressing her body close to his. "I think I've had enough," she managed, trying to extricate herself from his embrace.

Elrohir nodded, tucking the flower rakishly behind his ear, the effect making him look somewhat silly. "True," he said. "For you were fast falling for my brother's brand of charm." He tsked, shaking his head. "He is a rake and a scoundrel."

"And you are not?" she retorted, still pushing at him ineffectually.

He grasped her hand, spinning her away from him and back, pulling her against him once more. "I, dear Laurel, am much worse," he leered teasingly down at her. The sight of it made her laugh, though her body couldn't help but respond.

Elladan made a sound suspiciously like a snort. "You will get no argument from me on that, muindor."

Elrohir ignored him. "So, what favor shall I claim from you, meldis?" he asked, his eyes alight with mischief. "Since I believe I am the first to steal a flower from your pretty head."

"Elrohir," Arwen's voice came from behind him as she made her way gracefully to where they stood. "Behave yourself."

Giving his sister a thoroughly unconvincing innocent smile, he turned his attention back to Laurel. "A dance then, since my sister says I must behave?"

Laurel felt the color rise to her cheeks, noting that their antics had caught the attention of many. "No one else is dancing," she protested.

"They but wait for us," he said with a lofty air, eliciting a laugh from her. He smiled, wrapping his arm firmly about her waist. "A dance and I shall be satisfied."

Before she could utter a word of protest, Elrohir had pulled her out into the clearing where the musicians were. With a nod in their direction, he grasped her hands in his and waited for them to begin.

Laurel stopped feeling self-conscious about her dancing by the beginning of the second dance, for Elrohir had her so distracted by his teasing comments, his whispers tickling her ears and sending delightful shivers down her spine, that she forgot to worry about anything else.

"Surely you do not mean to keep this elleth all to yourself this evening," a voice said as the dance came to an end. "It would be most unfair."

Elrohir spun her around and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw who waited.

Orophin inclined his head politely and offered her his hand. "Will you honor me with the next dance, Laurel?"

* * *

Orophin folded his arms, frowning. "Look at them, muindor. I say we are too late, for 'tis obvious to me that Elladan has already won Laurel's affections."

Rúmil shook his head, taking a deep drink from his cup and letting the wine warm his belly. "No," he said finally, his eyes following the couple. "I think not. There is affection there, yes, but I think it friendship, nothing more. See? He could have stolen a kiss right then, and yet he did not."

"Perhaps," Orophin agreed grudgingly. "Though it is obvious that she is not unaffected by him."

"Look," Haldir said abruptly. "Elrohir has stolen her away. She looks a bit disconcerted." He sighed, wrapping his hand around his wine cup and staring into the contents of it moodily. "I think you might be right, Orophin."

Rúmil sighed in disgust. "Will you both give up on our wager before it has even begun?" he asked. "I see nothing in their behavior that tells me that Laurel's heart is already claimed. Look, she wears flowers, an open declaration of interest to any male who has the courage." He finished his wine, setting the cup on a nearby table. "I will go and ask for a dance."

"No," Orophin said, straightening and lifting his chin. "**I** will ask her, muindor." He stalked towards the couple without a backward glance.

Rúmil and Haldir exchanged a glance.

"Well played, muindor," Rúmil murmured, lifting his cup in salute.

Haldir's lips curved into a teasing smile. "He deserves a chance, at least, before I steal her for myself."

Rúmil chuckled, shaking his head with a soft sigh. "As you say, Haldir," he replied, and watched as Orophin approached Elrohir and Laurel.

* * *

Elrohir bowed and handed Laurel to Orophin with a swift kiss to her cheek. "Enjoy yourself," he whispered, and then he was gone, leaving her alone with an elf who was little more than a stranger.

Other dancers had joined them in the clearing. Laurel saw Arwen with one of Elladan's friends, and Elladan himself dancing with a lovely silver-haired elleth. Elrohir was pulling Galadriel to her feet, teasing his grandmother if her laughter was any indication.

Orophin smiled then, his fingers entwining with hers as he tugged her closer. "I do not bite," he said, then added as an afterthought, "Unless you wish me to."

It was such a typical come on line that Laurel laughed. It seemed males were males, no matter the species. Orophin brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them, and her laughter stopped abruptly. Dark gray eyes studied her with open interest, before he pulled her into his arms to dance.

Although she had been pleasantly distracted by Elrohir's maleness as they danced earlier, she was suddenly very conscious of Orophin's each time some movement brought their bodies into close contact. The breadth of his chest beneath his soft gray tunic, the unconscious strength in which he lifted and spun her, the narrowness of his hips as they occasionally brushed against hers; all these things were terribly distracting.

But she didn't miss when he went for a flower and caught him at it red handed.

Orophin bowed, a smile curving his full lips and his eyes gleamed with curiosity and undisguised male awareness. "What shall you ask of me?" he asked softly. "Ask anything within my power to grant and it is yours."

Laurel flushed at the look in his eyes. She hadn't thought that far ahead. "Well," she flailed, searching her mind vainly for something suitable to ask for. A wicked thought danced through her brain as she looked at him, wondering not quite so idly if he was any good with his tongue. It had been an awfully long time, and she could all too easily imagine the way his hair would feel tickling her bare thighs. She gave herself a mental shake, banishing the erotic thought. "A glass of wine," she said, settling for something innocent and easily accomplished. She _was_ thirsty after all that dancing.

Someone brushed behind her and she turned, startled as Rúmil appeared before her. "While my brother fetches your wine, would you honor me with a dance?"

"Do you always do this?" she asked bravely, as he swept her into the crowd of dancers.

Rúmil gave her a smile and tilted his head. "Do what?"

"Work together," she answered, enjoying the feel of his hand against her waist as he guided her. He was an excellent dancer, not as powerful as Orophin perhaps, but definitely more graceful. He was slightly taller than his brother, his chest not nearly as broad, but his hands were gentle and sure around her waist as he lifted her.

"Oh, aye," he replied with a wink. "More often than not."

"So will Haldir dance with me after you?" she asked, resting her hands boldly on his narrow waist, shivering slightly as he pressed his cheek to hers.

"Hmm," he replied softly, his lips inches from her ear. "I do not know if I can bear to be parted from you, now that I hold you in my arms."

It was such a silly and sweet thing to say, she felt herself liking him all the more for it. His lips pressed chastely against her cheek before he spun her away from him again, his smile mischievous. "You owe me a boon, fair one."

Laurel laughed as he produced the flower he had hidden behind his back. "You tricked me."

Rúmil nodded, giving her another wink. "Aye, and it worked quite well. Now, what favor shall I ask of you?"

She was blushing again, she was certain of it, and he seemed amused by the way she avoided his gaze.

"Fear not, fair Laurel," he chuckled, his long fingers grazing her cheek. "I will ask only that you save another dance for me later."

Laurel didn't know if she was disappointed or relieved, but she didn't have much time to react one way or the other, for Orophin had returned with her wine. She accepted it from him gratefully and took a sip to cover her confusion.

Merelind whirled by, laughing in the arms of an ellon Laurel recognized as being one of Elladan's friends, but she could not remember which. Niním approached Rúmil and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Will you dance?" she asked, giving him a flirty smile.

Rúmil spun her away, smiling as she wound her arms around his neck and Laurel watched as they danced, a trifle envious at how familiar Niním was with the handsome elf. It wasn't that she wanted Rúmil for herself, but that she wished _she_ were as easy and familiar with him as Niním obviously was. The intensity of the feeling surprised her.

"They make a lovely pair, do they not?"

She'd forgotten that Orophin was still there, standing beside her, his own wine glass held loosely in his hand.

"Yes," she replied, giving him a sidelong glance. He gave her a slow smile in return, tilting his head slightly.

"Will you dance with me again, when you finish your wine?" he asked, lowering his eyes as he took a sip from his own cup.

Laurel opened her mouth to answer, when someone else answered for her. "I do not think so, muindor." And a white blossom was held in front of her nose. She turned to see who had been stealthy enough to steal a flower from her hair without her even noticing and shook her head. "You _do_ work together, don't you?" she accused.

"Will you dance, Laurel?" Haldir asked, tucking the flower he had stolen from her hair behind his ear. It should have made him look ridiculous, the way Elrohir had looked ridiculous, but it didn't for some reason. He didn't smile broadly at her nod of acceptance, or flirt as she took his hand and allowed him to lead her to where the others danced. He seemed somewhat bemused as he guided her steps, and she wondered what he was thinking.

"I was considering what to ask for the remaining two blossoms," he answered quietly, and she realized she must have spoken aloud. His answer confused her.

"Remaining two blossoms?" she repeated. He gave her a smile that for some reason, made her blush, though she couldn't have said exactly why. "I only saw one."

Haldir's smile widened slightly. "I only showed you the one. I have two more, tucked inside my tunic."

Laurel half expected his smile to turn sly and teasing, and to have him offer to let her check. He did neither, instead, his arms pulled her close and he leaned his cheek against hers. The touch was completely innocent, but her body's reaction to it was not. Suddenly, she wished he _had _offered to let her check his tunic, if only to touch more of his skin. _Oh my_, she thought, mentally shaking that vision from her head. She either needed to stop drinking the wine now, or have several glasses more.

"You could ask for two more dances," she said finally.

A soft chuckle vibrated through his chest. "I am not so foolish as my brothers," he said, half-jokingly. "Before this evening is done, you will have danced with many." His voice dropped low, caressing her ear. "I do not wish to be forgotten."

Goose bumps prickled her skin, and Laurel pulled back so she could see his face. He was not smiling, but his eyes were. "What will you ask for?"

Haldir finally smiled and spun her away, chuckling as Elladan caught her effortlessly. Elladan gave Haldir a cocky grin. "Hannon chen, meldir."

Rúmil had claimed her for his second dance sometime during the course of the evening, and he had made her blush with his sweetly spoken flattery. Though he did not steal another blossom, he did manage to get her to agree to let him show her the city. His handsome face was so earnest, he didn't have to work very hard in persuading her, and she _did_ enjoy his company.

By the time the musicians called it a night and many elves had already left for their beds, Laurel's feet were killing her from dancing, and her head was mostly bare of blossoms. Many an ellon managed to snag one from her, and by the time she fulfilled all the promises made to them, she figured she had danced with just about every male elf in Lórien, including Lord Celeborn. Now _there_ was an elf who really knew how to dance.

If she'd been Galadriel, she would have kept him all to herself. He'd made her feel light and graceful as a leaf in his arms, all the while keeping pleasant conversation, as if it were no effort at all. Though she hadn't broached the question of having him continue her learning, when their dance had ended, he had given her a solemn wink.

"I expect to see you in my study in the morning, pen-neth, after breakfast. Do not be late."

She didn't have time to reply before another ellon was whisking her away.

Haldir, of course, had been right. She'd quickly lost track of the names and faces of many she'd danced with, but she remembered him for certain. Because there was still the little issue of two more blossoms to atone for.

Muindor = brother  
Meldis = female friend  
Meldir = male friend  
Hannon chen = thank you  
Pen-neth = young one

To be continued…


	9. Chapter 8

The Game of Love: Strike 

AN: _This chapter is dedicated to Jessica and to Bibi, for their persistence. Thank you, ladies. _

**Chapter 8 **

"The bet was my idea, of course," Eros said, buffing his nails lightly against his toga. He cast a look through his eyelashes up at his mother. "Mustn't make it too easy, after all."

"Of course," Aphrodite answered dryly, her lips twitching in amusement. "However, you're cutting the non-involvement issue a bit fine here, my son. Don't you think it would be best to just call this one a success and move back to your own realm?" She saw him bristle and laid a placating hand on his arm. "After all, there are plenty of hearts yearning for their true desires back on Earth. What is this one maid turned elf to you?"

Eros scowled and slouched ungracefully in his chair, biting his thumbnail. "It's not that she's so important, mother. That's not the point. The point is that _I_ brought her here…"

"Manwë brought her here," Aphrodite corrected softly. "And only because he owed a debt to you."

"A mere technicality," he replied, waving the hand he'd been nibbling lazily. "It was my idea, and therefore I should be able to do as I wish with her. It's not like I'm up to something dastardly – like that Sauron fellow. Really, is what I want too much to ask for?" He pouted.

Aphrodite sighed and silently begged Hera for patience. "Fine," she said, shaking her head. "I wash my hands of the whole affair. You and your brother are both meddling in things best left alone. Isn't it enough that you machinated the upheaval of this mortal's life, and dumped her without any warning whatsoever into a world she never even suspected existed? Can't you be satisfied with knowing that at this point, she has already met her intended true love? Can't you let nature take its course and move on?"

Eros sat up, frowning. "What is my brother up to?" he asked suspiciously, mentally cursing for not keeping an eye on Anteros. "What has he done?"

His mother regarded him silently before shaking her head again. "Never mind your brother. Will you leave well enough alone?"

"No," Eros replied, folding his arms and slouching again. "I won't. Not until I'm satisfied."

Aphrodite nodded, as if his answer was precisely what she had expected. "Very well. Do as you will, just as you always have. But don't be surprised if you receive another unwanted visit from an enraged Valar, once they figure out what you've been up to."

Eros smiled smugly. "They won't catch on. I'm too clever."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes at this and stood. "Right. Like the way you were clever with that human girl, Psyche and left the candles out where she could get at them." A sly smile curled her lips. "How is your wife, anyway? I'm sure she misses you."

He didn't smile. "Fine, mother. Tell Hephaestus I said hello, will you?" His mother's laughter lingered in the room long after she departed, as was her way of always having the last word.

Eros frowned, biting thoughtfully on his thumbnail, his brow furrowed.

Anteros was obviously up to something – something that rivaled Eros' own great plan.

It was time to find out what his brother was up to.

Laurel sat on the edge of a wooden walkway, her bare feet dangling over the edge, admiring a rather colorful bird that was perched on a branch only a few feet above her head. He had noticed her admiration and had puffed out his breast, ruffling his feathers and preening until she laughed softly at his vanity. Nonplussed by her amusement at his expense, he opened his beak and began to sing, filling the early morning air with his warbling.

She smiled and leaned back on her hands, tilting her head to look at the canopy of green and gold above her. Contentment and a kind of lazy happiness filled her. A soft breeze, carrying the scent of growing things, of flowers and earth and trees, touched her face and she took a deep breath, savoring it, before releasing it slowly. Life was so much simpler here. Sure, she missed some things from her old life (hot showers being first and foremost in the list), but for the most part, she realized, she was happy.

Laurel's smile widened as she realized that even in matters of the heart, things were looking up for her. She had not one, not two, but three men – _elves_, she corrected mentally – literally paying court to her, and really, there wasn't a bad choice to be had among them.

Rúmil had taken her on a tour of the city on her third day, and the more time she spent in the young marchwarden's company, the more she liked him. He was charming, flirtatious without being overbearing or obnoxious, and rather sweet. He had a gentle manner about him, and despite his teasing remarks and bold winks, he'd never done more than hold her hand. He made her laugh, and she appreciated that more than anything else about him.

Orophin, on the other hand, made her blush regularly with his simmering looks and promising smiles. She would never describe Orophin as sweet, though he was every bit as kind and charming as his brother. His flirting was far bolder than Rúmil's, and he took advantage of opportunities to place his arm around her waist or shoulders, drawing her close. The day after Rúmil had given her the tour of the city, Orophin had invited her on a picnic in one of the numerous grassy clearings that were scattered throughout Lothlórien. At one point he had taken her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. The feel of his soft lips against her skin had made her shiver, and she couldn't help but consider what it would feel like if he kissed her.

Haldir, however was something else entirely. There was something about the Captain of the Galadhrim that made her feel like a shy schoolgirl who'd never been kissed. After her first week in Lórien, he had stopped her after her morning lesson with Lord Celeborn and presented her with the second blossom. Feeling suddenly awkward and tongue-tied, she could only nod and stammer her agreement to join him for a walk. He had offered her his hand and she had accepted it, feeling the warm, tiny thrill, almost like a static electric shock, when his long fingers curled around hers.

Laurel found Haldir's brand of charm to be startlingly different from that of either Rúmil or Orophin's. He didn't talk a lot, but when he did, he always had something interesting to say, and when he complimented her, she had the feeling it wasn't idle flattery. He was sincere. And there was something else she found particularly odd and intriguing about him. She didn't feel the need to fill the silences that fell between them with chatter and small talk. Their silence was comfortable, companionable, as if they had known each other for ages, instead of days. He lacked Rúmil's easy natured charm, and Orophin's smoldering sensuality, but she didn't seem to mind. She rather liked his serious nature.

She sighed, and shifted, sitting upright once more. Her sudden movement startled her bird companion and he flew away, much to her chagrin. It was just as well, she supposed, for the morning was passing, and she was already late for her lesson with Lord Celeborn.

Celeborn wrapped his arms around his wife's slender waist, rubbing his cheek gently against hers. She laughed softly, her own arms twining about his neck.

"You seem to be in an amorous mood this morning, my husband," she said, feeling the press of him against her stomach. She shivered as he placed soft kisses against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Not that I am complaining."

Sliding his hands lower, he cupped the gentle swell of her buttocks while he nuzzled the delicate curve of her ear. Galadriel's soft sigh encouraged him further, and he roguishly pulled her tight against him even as his lips sought hers.

"Eh-hem…"

They separated swiftly, like a pair of clandestine lovers, and Galadriel was the first to regain her composure. Celeborn found something interesting and invisible stuck to the front of his robes and he busied himself with removing it. It gave him time to recover his usual unflappable demeanor.

Haldir stood at the door of Celeborn's study, his eyes fixed on some indefinite point behind Galadriel. His lips twitched as he struggled to contain his smile. "Forgive my untimely intrusion." His voice quivered ever so slightly. "I had a request, but it can wait until a later time."

Galadriel smiled, her cheeks slightly pink. "What is your request, Haldir?"

The Marchwarden cleared his throat again and looked down, studying his boots. "I was informed today that Elladan and Elrohir are returning to Imladris. I would like to be on their escort detail."

Galadriel hid her smile as her husband finally managed to put himself to rights. He frowned faintly as he regarded Haldir.

"I understood that you would be returning to the northern fences soon," Celeborn said. "Is there a particular reason you wish to deviate from your scheduled rotation?"

It was difficult to tell on an elf as stoic in nature as Haldir, but Galadriel thought she detected the slightest flush of color on his cheeks.

"My reasons are of a personal nature," Haldir answered quietly. "Orondo has already agreed to take my watch until I return."

Celeborn nodded and glanced at his wife, before looking candidly at the captain of his guardians. "I see." A small smile curved his lips. "Would I be correct in guessing that your request might have something to do with the company that Elladan and Elrohir will be keeping when they depart?" It was no secret that Haldir had been spending time in a certain elleth's company, an elleth who happened to be joining their granddaughter in seeing their grandsons off on their return journey.

Haldir nodded, his expression strained. "Aye." His reply was so faint they scarcely heard it.

"Then, so long as Orondo has agreed to the switch, I see no reason you should not lead the escort," Celeborn said. "Perhaps it would also be a fine opportunity to visit Fennas before returning home." Galadriel squeezed his hand, warning him not to overplay it. Haldir would not appreciate the nudge, no matter how well intended it was. He cleared his throat and said with an innocent, concerned air, "It has been a few months since we have had news from the settlement there."

"Aye," Haldir said, not fooled for an instant. "So it has. I shall pay an inspection upon our return, so long as Arwen and Laurel are not minded of the detour."

"What are you smiling about, muindor?" Orophin asked suspiciously as Haldir searched through his wooden trunk at the foot of his bed. "You look entirely too satisfied for my liking."

Rúmil leaned against his brother and chuckled. "It is only that he has outsmarted us both. He has made an agreement with Orondo to exchange rotations for a fortnight. While we shall be standing our watches on the Northern Fences, our dear Haldir shall be accompanying Arwen and her brothers to the borders, and Laurel is going with them to farewell Elladan and Elrohir."

Orophin snorted. "How did you manage to get Orondo to agree? He did not seem so very eager to return, what with having finally caught fair Niním's regard."

Haldir lifted his traveling pack from the chest and looked at his brothers with an unrepentant grin. "Aye, at first he was most reluctant to agree, until I pointed out that by switching rotations with me, he would be free for nearly four weeks after his watch had finished. I do believe that was the influencing factor in his decision."

"When do you depart?" Rúmil asked, a curious gleam in his eyes.

"Tomorrow morn, just after sunrise," Haldir replied, folding his extra set of leggings carefully and placing them in his pack. "Why?"

Rúmil smiled, grabbing his cloak from the hook by the door of their talan. "Then I have a visit to make."

Orophin snorted, watching his brother's disappearing backside for a moment before turning to look at Haldir. "I think our Rúmil has already won this wager," he said seriously. "He spends more time with Laurel than any of us."

Haldir shook his head. "No, I would not say that. They seem close, but in friendship, nothing more. He has done aught but hold her hand."

"So he says," Orophin replied, shaking his head. "Yet he brings her flowers and writes her gently worded notes of regard and leaves them for her daily. He is a romantic."

"And you are not?" Haldir asked with an arched eyebrow. "I have witnessed your wooing when you are truly intent upon it. Do not hold yourself shy of Rúmil, dear brother," he said kindly, "For I think that Laurel regards us all with true affection."

There was a gentle tapping at Laurel's door, and she looked up from the book she was reading with a small frown. Though hour was not very late, she was alone in the talan; Niním had left a while ago to have a private supper with Orondo, and Merelind was spending time with Arwen. Laurel was not expecting any visitors, for she had begged off accompanying Merelind to Arwen's talan, not really feeling in the mood to be social. Lord Celeborn had given her a book on the different species of flowers that were native to Lórien, and she found herself, surprisingly, intrigued by it. They had discovered, quite by accident, the Laurel had a 'green-thumb', a natural talent with plants, and she was even more surprised by how much she enjoyed spending time in Galadriel's gardens. She couldn't remember spending much time doing any sort of gardening when she'd been living her old life, but now she wondered how she'd managed to live her life without it. There was something very satisfying about it – to plant a seedling and watch it thrive and grow under her careful guidance; such a sense of accomplishment when it finally bloomed forth.

The soft, yet insistent rapping came again, bringing her out of her musing, and she set her book aside to answer it.

Rúmil stood outside her door, a handful of white flowers she recognized as _elanor_, no doubt 'donated' from Galadriel's garden. He offered them to her with a smile.

"I don't know where I can put these," she laughed, bringing them to her nose for a sniff. They had a very faint fragrance, nothing she could categorize from her former life, but very pleasant. "You have given me so many. Not that I'm complaining," she added hastily, not wanting to sound ungrateful for his thoughtfulness. "These are lovely. Thank you."

"May I come in?" he asked.

She nodded and stepped aside, closing the door behind him and heading for the cupboard, where she hoped she would find at least one empty vase. The cupboard was bare, however, and she was forced to settle for mixing the elanor blossoms in with the alfirin he had brought her the day before. The soft, pastel alfirin blended nicely with the gold and silver blooms of the elanor, and she found the affect very pleasing.

It wasn't until she finished fussing with the flowers that she realized that she was alone with Rúmil. Granted, they had been alone before on their walks and rambles around the city, but there had always been the distant presence of other elves. The few times he had visited her talan, Merelind or Niním had been present. She'd never been truly _alone_ with him before. The realization made her nervous, and she felt her face grow hot under his bemused regard.

"Tea?" she offered gamely, offering him an overly-bright smile. "Or perhaps something to eat?"

Rúmil smiled down at her. "No, thank you. Haldir tells me you are leaving tomorrow morning to see Elladan and Elrohir off on their journey home."

Laurel nodded, relaxing somewhat. Silly, to be nervous. Rúmil was her friend. A sweet, sexy, and handsome friend, but a friend nonetheless. He'd never done anything to make her feel uncomfortable in his presence. "Yes. Arwen wanted to, and I thought it would be nice to get out and see more of Lothlórien." She tilted her head up at him. "Will you and your brothers be coming along?"

Rúmil shook his head. "No. Orophin and I are returning to duty, but Haldir has arranged to be escort for you and Arwen."

"Oh?" She tried to sound normal, even though her stomach gave a noticeable lurch at the thought of riding for several days in Haldir's company. "Well, that will be nice. Not you and Orophin going back to the fences," she amended quickly. "But having Haldir escort us." She shut her mouth before she could babble any more nonsense.

Rúmil laughed softly and took a step closer to her. "Will you miss me?" he asked, reaching up to stroke her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Of course I will," she protested, looking at him earnestly. "How could I not? You are my friend…" She never got any further, because he silenced her words with a kiss. As kisses went, it was fairly chaste; just a soft, exploration of her lips with his own. Chaste or not, she felt it all the way to her toes. She had just brought her hands up to rest on his shoulders when he drew back, looking down at her with a faint smile.

"There," he said finally, reaching up to brush a stray hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. "Now I can return to the fences and not be plagued by the wondering of what it would be like to kiss you, and worrying that you will forget me while in the company of my charming oldest brother." He stepped away and turned, giving her a wink. "Good night, Laurel."

Before he could leave, and before she could lose her nerve, Laurel stepped forward and stopped him. Rising up on tiptoe, her eyes on his startled face, she brushed her lips across his cheek. "Good night, Rúmil."

He left with a smile that lit his whole face.

She busied herself with making a pot of tea, and tried not to feel guilty for her conflicting thoughts.

She _liked_ Rúmil, and his kiss had been more than pleasant. But overshadowing it was the persistent and delightful twinge of anticipation she felt at the knowledge that Haldir would be their riding escort.

Laurel gulped her tea, determined to maintain a sense of calm over which of her myriad suitors was doing what and when.

It scalded all the way down.

Tbc…


End file.
